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THE

M¥ LIFE DAWNING,
AND OTHER DISCOURSES,

OF

BEENARD H/IaDAL, D.D.,

■ LATE PROFESSOR OF HISTORICAL THEOLOGY

IN THE

DREW THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY.

EDITED, WITH A MEMOIR,

By Rev. HENRY A. BUTTZ, M.A

AND AN INTKODUCTION
By BISHOP R. S. FOSTER, D.D., LL.D.

v*r

NEW YORK:

NELSON & PHILLIPS.

CINCINNATI: HITCHCOCK & WALDEN.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 187-'$, by

NELSON & PHILLIPS,

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

CONTENTS.

Page

Introduction 5

Memoir of B. H. Nadal, D. D 11

Discourses.

I. The New Life Dawning 99

And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said. Surely the Lord
is in this place; and I knew it not. — Gen. xxviii, 16.

II. Lingering at the Gates 113

And Elijah came unto all the people, and said, How long halt ye
between two opinions? if the Lord be God, follow hirn: but "if
Baal, then follow him. — 1 Kings xviii, 21.

III. Outside Hospitality 128

Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain stran-
gers : for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. — Heb.
xiii, 1, 2.

IV. The Evidential Force of Miracles 142

Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish : for I work a work
in your days, a work which ye shall in no wise believe, though a
man declare it unto you. — Acts xiii, 41.

V. Profanity a Fashionable Crime 162

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain : for the
Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. —
Exod. xx. 7. Also Matt, v, 34-36.

VI. The Higher Life 180

But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. Amen. —
2 Pet. iii, IS.

VH. The Transfiguration 198

And it came to pass about an eight days after these sayings, he took
Peter and John and James, and went up into a mountain to pray.
And as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was altered, and
his raiment was white and glistering. And, behold, there talked
with him two men. which were Moses and Elias : who appeared in
glory, and spake of his decease which he should accomplish at Je-
rusalem, etc. — Luke ix, 28-36.

VIII. Christ Crucified, the Key-Note of the Chris-
tian Pulpit 223

For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus
Christ, and him crucified. — 1 Cor. ii, 2.

LX. Glorying in Tribulation 239

And not only so. but we glory in tribulations also : knowing that
tribulation worketh- patience; and patience, experience: and ex-
perience, hope : and hope maketh not ashamed ; because the love of
God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given
unto us. — Rom. v, 3-5.

4 CONTENTS.

Discourses. Page

X. The Church and the World Hostile 253

They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. —
John xvi, 16.

XI. The Spiritual World 271

For he endured as seeing- Him who is invisible. — Heb. xi, 27.

XII. Easter Joy 286

Saying, the Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon. —
Luke xxiv, 34.

XIII. Not Works, but Mercy, the Ground of Sal-
vation 303

Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but accord-
ing to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration,
and renewing of the Holy Ghost; which he shed on us abun-
dantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour.— Titus iii, 5, 6.

XIY. Salvation by Works 319

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good
works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in
them. — Epii. ii, 10.

XV. Sin Self- Avenging 336

And be sure your sin will find you out.— Num. xxxii, 23.

XYI. Prayer the Means of Attaining to Certainty

in Divine Things 353

And Cornelius said, Four days ago I was fasting until this hour ;
and at the ninth hour I prayed in my house, and behold, a man
stood before me in bright clothing", and said, Cornelius, thy
prayer is heard, and thine alms are had in remembrance in the
sight of God.— Acts x, 30, 31.

XVII. Christian Principle the Sheet-Anchor of

the Soul 368

Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice
of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light?
Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God.
—Isa. 1, 10.

XVIII. In Memoriam : Prof. Merritt Caldwell, A.M. 382

For he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So
that we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not
fear what man shall do unto me.— Heb. xiii, 5, 6.

XIX. The Aspect of Christianity from the End

of a Thirty Years' Pastorate 403

Then Peter," filled with the Holy Ghost, said unto them, Ye. rul-
ers of the people, and elders of Israel, if we this day be examined
of the <rood deed done to the impotent man, by what means he
is made whole; be it known unto you all. and to all the people
of Israel, that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom
ye crucified, whom God raised from the dead, even by him doth
this man stand here before you whole. This was the stone which
was set at naught of you builders, which is become the head of
the corner. Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is
none other name under heaven given among men. whereby we
must be saved.— Acts iv, 8-12.

INTRODUCTION.

IT is not more natural for man to yearn for immor-
tality than it is for human affections to desire to
keep alive forever the memory and influence of the de-
parted, especially if their lives were beautiful and good.
Though made invisible by death, they live peren-
nially in our hearts, and still walk the journey of life
with us. Both in our dreams and waking memories
they keep ever coming to us as vividly as when they
joined hands with us, and seem to be about us
almost as really as if we could still behold them. We
are filled with wonder, at times, that they do not take
form and voice, and commune with us as in other
days.

Dear Nadal — the generous friend, the genial col-
league, the cultivated scholar, the tireless student,
the tender-hearted, gentlemanly Christian — comes to
me often, many times a day, just as he used to when
we strolled the groves together : comes knocking at
my door, as he was wont, in the evening and in the
morning. At this moment his step is in the tessel-
lated hall, and I am waiting to see him come with his
pleasant smile through the open door. He does not
come. May be it is that my dull eye of sense does
not see him now.

6 INTRODUCTION.

Glad am I that one who knew him well and loved
him reverently has been induced, at the promptings
of affection, to give permanent form to some of the
reminiscences of his beautiful character and life, as
he went in and out among us.

As it is acted before us, a beautiful life is full of
precious though often unconscious ministries, which
keep on forever voicing themselves in our history and
working themselves into the fiber and fashion of our
character. Abel, though dead, is speaking still, and
the unseen influence of his example goes on touching
the shores of human thought and feeling over all the
world. The connection is lost to our crude observa-
tion, but the Infinite, who is interested to pursue the
stream through all its intricate windings, discerns
each echo and vibration of the hushed voice and
finished act, and will gather them all up at last, and
place them, a crown of glory, on the head deserving
to wear them.

It is often not until the vase is broken that we
discover the precious ointment it contained, even
though we were constantly breathing its delicious
odors. We walk along the journey of life with a
chosen friend, in a commonplace sort of way, in sweet
content, without knowing exactly why, until death lets
go a bolt, and our comrade falls ; then first we learn
that it was an angel who had been walking by our side ;
the ascending chariot reveals the Elijah. After the
grass covers away his form, and the places where we
met him are vacant, we remember the marvelous
charm of his presence, and are surprised that, much as
we loved him, we really never knew his worth until
he had gone from us.

INTR OB UCTION. 7

The subject of this memoir was not, daring his life,
without appreciation, nor did he occupy an obscure
place, where his rare qualities were observed only by
a few favored friends. For thirty years he filled a
large and conspicuous place in the Church's eye and
heart. The leading pulpits of several of the principal
cities of the nation were the scenes of his successful
ministry. Few have gathered about them more ar-
dent or attached friends and admirers. Thousands,
we may venture to say, still cherish with grateful love
the memory of his instructive words and tender but
manly sympathies. His co-laborers honored him
with a high degree of confidence and esteem. His
words, whether spoken or written, never failed to
command attention. To rare beauty of mind he
added the superior charm of perfect candor and un-
flinching bravery. He was no trimmer. The Church
had in him a true and faithful son, always ready to do
valiant service. But he was no bigot : his catho-
licity was broad and genial. Many of his most at-
tached friends were found in other Churches than his
own. He loved and cultivated the spirit of Christian
unity, and was never more pleased than when serving
the pulpits of other denominations, which he did with
great frequency in all the places where he lived.

His death was recognized by the Church of Christ
throughout the country as a calamity, and suitable
mention was made of it by the pulpit and the press.
In the hour of our country's peril she had no more
dutiful son or eloquent defender, Resident at the
time in the capital, he was the chosen counselor and
spiritual adviser of some of the most eminent states-
men. His voice was ever one of courage and hope.

8 INTRODUCTION.

But, after all, it was not until death had claimed
him that we realized how really rare and rich a
jewel he was. The place he made vacant was broader
than we knew.

The name of Nadal must forever be inseparably
associated in my thought with that other kingly name
— our beloved President — John M'Clintock. Scarcely
a greater compliment could be paid the one than to
say he was the life-long friend of the other. Near the
same age, and becoming associated in the morning of
their young manhood, their lives thenceforth blended
in a beautiful confluence of love and just and admiring
appreciation.

Never can I forget how, in the closer intimacies of
a common interest, we went in and out together for
the space of three years. Promenading the grove,
visiting in the parlors of our homes, or sitting in the
council chamber devising plans of usefulness, it was
a union of unutterable friendship, springing from no
common affinities and aims, that cemented us. There,
as princes, not in position only, but in our hearts and
judgment, sat M'Clintock, as great a soul as was ever
shrined in flesh ; on his right, holding the place by
preemption, sat Nadal ; on his left, the scholarly and
affable Strong, the friend and co-laborer of years ; and
so in my heart and memory they must forever con-
tinue to sit together in consecrated unity.

When the blow fell that laid M'Clintock low, it
stunned us all, but shivered Nadal, like as when the
lightning stroke rends some great tree. Not for the
sad funereal days alone, but for the months following,
when we walked and talked his voice and nerves
were tremulous, and many times he wept and sobbed

INTRODUCTION. 9

as he spoke of our loss. One of the most trusted
friends of all his life had been suddenly taken from
him. Dear Nadal ! I loved him more tenderly be-
cause he loved M'Clintock so much. Our bereave-
ment was unabated in its force when duty called me
away for some months from our stricken group. The
evening before I was to sail Nadal sat with me to a
late hour, and early in the morning, with a part of his
own family, joined mine to attend me to the steamer.
He was nervous with foreboding as to my health,
which was not good, and I am quite sure he even
then feared for himself.

When the final signal was given, he seized my
hand, and with great emotion said, " Dear fellow,
good-by, and don't you be leaving us over there in
Europe," and, rushing down the gangway, stood
waving his handkerchief until distance hid him from
my view. I never saw him again. In ten brief days
he had gone to join his dear friends in the realms of
light. It was on a bright Sabbath morning, on my
way to church, in the beautiful town of Leamington,
England, six weeks after it had happened, that I
received the news of his death. It fell upon me like
a thunder-bolt from that cloudless sky. Shall I say
that it amazed me, frightened me ? It would be but
saying the truth ; but I must add that, following the
immediate almost terror that came over me with the
unexpected tidings, came a meditation of rich and
blessed sweetness, worth a great agony to obtain.
My comrades were gone. They had left me in
the midst of the furrow, while their hands were full
of labor ; when it seemed to me the Church wanted
them, when their usefulness was at its growth, when

10 INTRODUCTION.

love held them with its tightest grip. My faith fol-
lowed them quickly as my affections. They grew
upon me ; became more real than ever. Long robes
were upon them, and they were crowned. I rested
sweetly that night in an upper room of the Queen's
Inn, and dreamed of heaven.

Since that darker days have come to me, and
heaven has enriched itself by robbing me of yet
dearer treasures. They are not lost, but only gar-
nered. I cannot tell whether they are with us, but I
know they are waiting for us.

On this side we are like shadows of a cloud that
come and go ; and so we meet and part. On that side
they are like the stars that shine for ever and ever.

The following brief memoir tells the story of a
few of the many virtues of our beloved friend, and
seeks to perpetuate for a time what we are not will-
ing should ever die ; but there is another book written
by angel fingers that will be more full and just, in
which all his deeds and excellences are embalmed
forever. R, S. Foster.

THE

NEW LIFE DAWNING.

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D.

PREFATORY.

The year 1870 will be long remembered among Ameri-
can Methodists on account of the death of so many
of their representative men. During the first few
months of that year, Thomson and Kingsley among
the bishops ; M'Clintock, Nadal, and Foss among the
educators and preachers ; and Cobb, Cornell, and
Wesley Harper among the laymen ; with many
others, whom, though less known, the Church could
ill spare, were called away from earthly labor to
heavenly reward.

The influence of their character and labors, how-
ever, did not cease at their death. Being dead, they
yet speak ; for next to the influences exerted upon
society by the contact of living men with their fel-
lows, are the impressions which are left by those
whose deeds, whose writings, and whose spirit men
have appreciated and loved. They who have won a
name among men by their conflict with opposing
forces are the real teachers of humanity, and the
memorials of their lives cannot fail to be useful to
mankind.

1 2 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

Among those whose memory is embalmed in many
hearts, and whose history deserves more than a pass-
ing notice, was the Rev. Bernard H. Nadal, D.D.,
who at the time of his death was Professor of His-
torical Theology in the Drew Theological Seminary
at Madison, N. J. While living, he wielded a power-
ful influence for good over those whom he addressed
from the pulpit and platform, or by means of his
facile and instructive pen ; and now that his voice is
no more heard on earth, and that the pen has fallen
from his lifeless fingers, there are multitudes who will
review the records of his life with interest, and who
will gather inspiration from a knowledge of his
struggles and successes. It is not the intention,
however, in this connection, to write a formal biog-
raphy of Dr. Nadal, nor even to give an outline of his
life and character which will be satisfactory to those
who knew him best ; but merely to prefix to his Dis-
courses such a memoir of him as will gratify, in part,
those who from reading them may desire to know
something more of their author. It may also furnish
the large circle of his friends, both among the ministry
and laity, a small outline, which each may fill up in
the points wherein it fails to do justice to the memory
of this eminent servant of Christ. For this reason the
writer has not called for facts from many sources
to which he might have applied, but has contented
himself with those within his reach, except in one or
two instances. Errors both in fact and in the de-
velopment of the character will perhaps be found
which will be readily corrected by those who recog-
nize them. And yet it is hoped they are so few that
those who were unacquainted with Dr. Nadal may

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 1 3

draw from this narrative a correct idea of his life,
even if it be an inadequate one.

A large volume might have been made by calling
for additional facts, and by publishing many of his
interesting letters and writings ; but it is thought
that the brief narrative of his career here given, ac-
companied by a few of his sermons, will prove a sat-
isfactory memorial of one who for many years filled
such a high position in the pulpit, the professor's
chair, and in the literature of his Church and country.
The editor of this cannot dare to hope that the por-
traiture here given by one whose acquaintance with
the lamented one was so brief, can fill the measure
of the appreciation of his dearest friends, and espe-
cially that it can express the full truth as known to
that stricken circle upon the altar of whose heart the
flowers of his memory will always be beautiful and
fragrant.

I.

DR. JSTADAL'S ANCESTRY.

Of Dr. Nadal's ancestry we know but little. That
his father, who was a native of Bayonne, France, was
both wayward and enterprising, is shown by the fact
that when but twelve years of age he ran away from
his parents and came to the United States. It is
said that he was at that time studying for the Roman
Catholic priesthood, and threw down his books in the
street and ran away. A mere boy, without friends,
and in a strange land, he grew up to man's estate,
and, so far as we know, secured and retained an un-
blemished reputation and character. He was married
twice. His second wife, whose maiden name was

1 4 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

Rachel Harrison, became the mother of three chil-
dren— Bernard, the subject of this memoir, being the
youngest.

Bernard was born in Talbot County, Maryland, on
the 27th of March, 1812. Five months before his
birth his father died, so that he was never permitted
to enjoy paternal protection and counsel. After the
death of her husband his mother lived with her father
for two years until his death. A fact connected with
her father is worthy of notice. At the time of her
marriage he had a number of slaves on his farm on
the eastern shore of Maryland. Before his death he
freed them all, numbering about seventy-five, leaving
to his large family only the moderate allotment re-
sulting from the division of the farm.

This instance shows that the grandfather of young
Nadal saw the dreadful blight and sin involved in
human slavery, and was unwilling to transmit its
curse to his children. Bernard's mother was a
very pious woman, and a member of the Methodist
Episcopal Church from childhood. She was also a
woman of much intelligence and "force of character.
Having been deprived of a home for the second time
by the death of her father, she removed to St. Mi-
chael's, where she taught school to support her chil-
dren. While she was thus teaching the children of
others, no doubt she wisely instructed her own, and,
by pointing out the dry wastes of ignorance, created
that intense thirst for knowledge for which her young-
est son Bernard was afterward so distinguished.

In 1 82 1 she went to reside with a brother in
Hookstown, five miles from Baltimore, which con-
tinued to be her home until her death.

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D D. 15

Two things are worthy of note in regard to the
ancestry of Dr. Nadal, because they bear directly
upon what he afterward became. The first is the
emancipation of slaves by his grandfather, suggesting
that young Nadal's hatred of slavery, which in-
creased with, his years and influence, was to some
extent at least inherited. He had no doubt heard
the story in his boyhood, and the impressions thus
made in favor of liberty were never effaced. The
second is, that his mother was a thorough Christian,
intelligent, and of great energy of character — qualities
which were, in a marked degree, reproduced in her
son Bernard, whose life we are about to trace.

II.
HIS CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH.

The information we have respecting his childhood
is quite meager, yet there is sufficient to show that
his was not an exception to the maxim, " The child
is father of the man." As the naturalist can take the
bone of an animal and from it determine the size and
kind of animal to which it belonged, so, were nothing
left to us but the scant fragments of Dr. Nadal's
early history, we could not fail to conclude that a
marked manhood must have followed such a boy-
hood. As the vigor of the sapling foretells the
grandeur of the oak, and the profusion of blossoms an
abundant harvest, so his youth gave promise of a-
brilliant future.

His school life began when he was eight years of
age. His mother discovered his aptitude for learn-
ing, and made great sacrifices to give him educational
advantages for a few years. His school privileges could

1 6 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

not have been very extended, however, for while quite
young, he went to Baltimore, and was for several years
in the employ of a chemist and liquor merchant of that
place, into whose family he was received as one of
the household. He soon gained their confidence, and
was treated with marked kindness. This family was
one of culture and refinement, and his connection
with it proved very advantageous to him and also to
them. They placed good books in his hands, and
allowed him time to read them. These privileges he
did not fail to improve. Whenever a little time was
at his disposal he might have been found with a
book in his hands ; and no doubt to the choice read-
ing and refined surroundings of his boyhood days he
was indebted very much for that fine taste, both in
style and imagery, which marked his productions in
his riper years. If style be, as it has been defined,
" The man himself," then in these early years, when no
doubt his refined manhood was developing, there was
also growing that love of the beautiful which all
who knew him intimately could not fail to notice.

It has been said that his connection with this
family was also advantageous to them. The kindness
of his employer did not fall upon an ungrateful heart.
As the earth drinks in the gentle showers and re-
turns fruits and flowers for the benefit of man, so the
heart of young Nadal received thankfully the kind-
• ness of his friend, and repaid it by a manifestation of
gratitude as rare as it was beautiful. This gentleman
failed in health and also in his business. The family
was thus left without means of support. During
the last winter of his employer's life, and while he
was wasting with consumption, the family depended

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. iy

chiefly for support on this boy of sixteen. Such was
Bernard's affection for them, and such his anxiety to
serve them, that he picked up the trade of a comb-
maker, from which he brought them seven dollars a
week for some months. This fact in his early history
reveals a nobility of character and a delicacy of ap-
preciation rare even among those of mature years
and greater advantages, and prepares us to expect
that if the grace of the Gospel should operate on his
heart and renew it, he would become the fit instru-
ment of Divine Providence in the accomplishment of
much good to men.

God, in his wise adaptation of means to ends,
selects for his work those who are capable of it ; and
in this case there seems to have been elements in
Bernard precisely adapted to the ministry of the
Gospel.

At the age of seventeen he was apprenticed to a
man by the name of John Bear, in Hanover, Penn-
sylvania, for four years, to learn saddle-making. In
this employment he does not seem to have succeeded
with satisfaction to himself. He had no taste for it.
As it is difficult to do that which is uncongenial, it
is probable that while he employed his time faith-
fully, he did not devote himself to the acquisition of
the trade with his accustomed energy. This view is
confirmed by his own statement, that at the end
of his apprenticeship he could not make a decent
saddle. He secured, however, while here, that rich-
est of blessings, the forgiveness of his sins and
adoption into the family of God.

In this place he was converted at the age of twenty.
No particulars of his conversion are accessible, so as

2

1 8 THE NEW LIFE DA WNHTG.

to be given here, but his future life is the best attest-
ation of the radical change of heart which then took
place.

While at Hanover he had a dream which left a
deep impression on his mind. He was walking, so
he dreamed, in a wood, when he came upon a young
man whom he recognized as a fellow-townsman.
This young man lived in Hanover, was somewhat
older than himself, and was a person of considerable
influence with the young men of the village. He
was fond of display, and was considered rather a man
of fashion. After the meeting they two walked on
together. By and by they came to the edge of a
precipice, and the young man suddenly disappeared.
He too fell, but he caught upon the roots of a tree
that hung over, and sustained himself. At that
moment he awoke. He at once explained the dream
to himself in this way : that the wood which he saw
was the wilderness of life ; that this young man re-
presented the gay world and the fate of all who
trusted in it ; that the precipice was the abyss of
endless death, and the tree to which he had clung
was Christ. A few years before Dr. Nadal's death
he was riding in an out-of-the-way place in Maryland
to see his mother's grave. On his way back the stage
stopped one morning early at a wayside tavern, and
there got into the stage a man with a bundle of tools,
who was very much in liquor. He naturally expected
some annoyance from this unpromising passenger,
and at first got further back in the stage. He began
to converse with him, however, and learned that he
was from Hanover, Pa., which aroused his curiosity.
He asked him his name, and found that he was the

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D 19

same man whom he had known in his boyhood, and
with whom he had walked in his dream. He found
on inquiry about him that he was always drunk, and
lived on the charity of his neighbors and on such
small jobs as they could give him. Thus his dream
was fulfilled.

After serving his four years' apprenticeship he re-
turned to Baltimore, and not finding employment at
his trade, and conscious, perhaps, that he had missed
his calling, he accepted a clerkship in a store at
Woodstock, Va. The agreeableness of his manners,
his integrity, and his devotion to his business, ren-
dered him a capital clerk, and his employer made him
flattering offers to enter into partnership with him,
but he declined them all.

The Holy Spirit, by yielding to whose influence he
had been converted, now whispered to him that it was
his duty to preach the Gospel. He was not disobedient
to the heavenly call ; but having been duly licensed,
he began at once to fit himself for his life-work. Those
views of a thorough mental as well as spiritual prepa-
ration for the Christian ministry which in his raa-
turer years he so ably maintained, had their begin-
ning in his early life, and found their first application
in his own self-culture. Unfortunately the materials
for a full account of his early struggles are very
meager, but we know enough to convince us that his
efforts were not spent in securing the minimum of
preparation necessary to enter the conference, but in
attaining that kind and degree of education which
would enable him, with the Divine blessing, to be-
come in its highest sense a minister of the Lord
Jesus Christ. To appreciate his efforts in this regard,

20 THE NE W LIFE DA WfflNG.

his surroundings must be taken into consideration.
At that time the so-called higher ideas of education
did not prevail either among the ministry or laity of
Methodism. Over the period covered by his youth,
the heroic days of Methodism still cast their rays
It was the age of orators and men of power. It was
the age of matchless zeal and fervor. The men who
then stood at the front of the Lord's hosts, while not
depreciating classical and scientific scholarship, re-
garded the time spent in acquiring it as so much
time subtracted from the great work while " the
fields were white to the harvest." So pressing was
the demand for men that it was usual to urge all who
felt called of God to the work of the ministry, and
who were certified by their brethren to possess the
disciplinary requirements " of gifts, grace, and useful-
ness," to enter at once upon their evangelistic labors.
These statements are not made to question the
wisdom of the plan pursued in this respect by our
fathers, (for it was doubtless wise and necessary,)
nor to suggest a comparison between the old and the
new methods of preparation for the ministry, but to
show that with surroundings which did not serve as
incentives to extended literary acquisitions, he yet
devoted himself to a class of studies not required by
the general usages of the time. He spent two years
in intellectual preparation.

He began the study of Latin during his apprentice-
ship as a saddler. With his Latin grammar before him,
in a little frame made by himself for the purpose,
he committed the paradigms and rules while he was
stitching saddles with his hands. Afterward he met a
lawyer in the town who was interested in young men,

MEMOIR OF B. II. NADAL, D.D. 21

and who aided him in his mathematical studies, greatly
to young Nadal's advantage. In further preparation
for his first circuit, he made his own saddle and pur-
chased a little black horse, which he called Doctor,
and whose faithfulness he was accustomed in after
life frequently to mention. The traces which have
been seen of the choiceness of his early reading, and
his voluntary devotion to Latin and mathematics,
lead us to infer that while he was destitute of a sys-
tematic training such as can only be acquired in the
schools, he had at the time of entering on the work
of the ministry laid the foundations on which he
afterward erected a beautiful and symmetrical struct-
ure of finished scholarship. His further studies
properly belong to the history of his active life.

III.
AS A PREACHER AND PASTOR.

His ministerial life began with his admission into
the old Baltimore Conference in the year 1835. He
was twenty-three years of age, and entered upon his
work with the hearty enthusiasm of a youth conse-
crated to God and to his Church, ready to serve the
cause in whatever field Providence, through the ap-
pointed instrumentalities of the Church, might assign
him. His first appointment was Luray Circuit, in
Virginia, as a junior preacher.

His subsequent fields of labor were the following:
1836-37, St. Mary's Circuit, Md.; 1837-38, Bladens-
burgh, Md. ; 1838-40, City Station, Baltimore ; 1841-
42, Lewisburgh, Va. ; 1842-44, Lexington, Va. ; 1844-
46, Columbia-street, Baltimore; 1846-48, Carlisle,
Pa. ; 1848-49, Agent of Baltimore Female College ;

22 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

1849-51, High-street, Baltimore; 1851-53, City Sta-
tion, Baltimore ; 1853-54, supernumerary ; 1854-57,
Professor in Indiana Asbury University; 1857-58,
Presiding Elder of Roanoke District; 1858-60,
Foundry Church, Washington ; 1860-62, Sands-street
Church, Brooklyn; 1862-64, First Church, New
Haven; 1864-66, Wesley Chapel, Washington;
1866, Trinity Church, Philadelphia; and in the fall
of 1867 he accepted the professorship of Historical
Theology in Drew Theological Seminary, where he
remained until his death.

Dr. Crooks, who preached at his funeral, after
recapitulating the responsible positions which Dr.
Nadal had filled, added impressively, " This is not the
record of a laggard." It would be needless to attempt
here a full account of his pastoral life in his varied
fields of labor even if the materials were at hand.
There is so much of sameness in the preacher's work,
that the presentation of a few salient points is all
that will be attempted in this connection. In the
years 1836-37 he traveled St. Mary's Circuit, Md.,
and in 1838 he was appointed to Bladensburgh Circuit,
located between Washington and Baltimore. We
know little of these years of his life, except that they
were years of earnest and successful labors marked
by intense devotion to self-improvement. In 1839
and 1840 he was one of the preachers of City Station,
Baltimore. From Baltimore, at the close of his two
years of service, which was the largest the Discipline
then allowed, he was sent to Lewisburgh, Va.

During his second year on this charge he was
married to Miss Jane Mays, daughter of John Mays,
Esq., of Lewisburgh. While in this appointment he

MEMOIR OF B. R. NABAL, B.B. 23

worked hard both for the Church and for his own
improvement. On his arrival he was disheartened
somewhat when he saw the smallness of the society
compared with the large membership and congrega-
tion to which he had been accustomed in Baltimore.
He entered, however, heartily into the work, watching
over each member with the most zealous care. He
was in the habit of having sunrise prayer-meetings,
and the interest in the subject of salvation increased
so that during the first year of his ministry there,
and only a few months after he came, a remarkable
revival of religion took place. The Church was
powerfully blessed, and a multitude of sinners brought
to Christ. His preaching impressed the people very
favorably, and he had large congregations.- The
young took a special interest in his discourses and
were greatly benefited by them. As this was the
formative period of his life, it is interesting to know
that he was accustomed at this time to write his ser-
mons in full, and often delivered them verbatim.
Occasionally he read his sermons. The week was
divided for study purposes into two parts, except
Monday, which was rest-day. Tuesday, Wednesday,
and Thursday were devoted to general reading, and
Friday and Saturday to the preparation of his ser-
mons. These were years of hard study. He had
formed the purpose, notwithstanding he was already
in the active ministry, that he would go to college.
He meant to make of himself a cultivated man and
a scholar, and he allowed no obstacles to swerve him
from his prescribed plan. He promised the Lord
that he would press forward, using every means of
improvement within his reach. Any body who

24 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

knew what he did not know served him as a teacher.
It is evident that he was a conscientious student.
He loved knowledge for its own sake, and for the
means of usefulness which it opened before him. It
was to him an instrument of power for good among
men, and hence he sought it. He showed his desire
for knowledge by his willingness to pay the price
which it demands, which is not genius, not oppor-
tunities merely, but hard work. An intimate friend
said of him, that in his early circuit life he read his
books from sunrise in the morning till late at night.

His next appointment was Lexington, Va., a circuit
where he was preacher in charge. The young
preacher and his wife were kindly treated by the
people, but they had all the hardships which the
young married preachers of those times and of that
part of the country so well understood. They had a
good and commodious house, but no furniture, and to
supply this was a heavy burden on the small sala-
ries of those days. It was no doubt a severe trial to
his young wife thus to step at once from the comforts
of a home into the self-denying toils of early Meth-
odist circuit life, as well as to himself. They bore it
nobly, however, never faltering in the path of duty.
He took a deep interest in the welfare of his col-
leagues, with whom his relations were very pleasant.
He had his study fitted up for their use, and encour-
aged them to occupy it as often as they could. On this
charge his colleagues were successively Rev. William
Krebs and Rev. Mr.' Ritchie. His own studies were
very much interrupted during these two years, as
his pastoral and pulpit duties compelled him to travel
most of the time.

MEMOIR OF B. II. NAVAL, D.I). 25

In his next appointment, Columbia-street, Balti-
more, he found a good people, ready to labor with
him in building up the Church. He toiled most
earnestly. As a result of the united efforts of him-
self and his people a blessed revival of religion oc-
curred, encouraging his heart and the hearts of his
brethren. Here he gave himself to study whenever
his pastoral duties would allow, and made rapid
progress in linguistic as well as scientific lore. These
two years were full of usefulness, and also of his own
personal improvement.

At the close of his term of service in Columbia-
street he was stationed at Carlisle, Pa., the well-
known seat of Dickinson College. This appoint-
ment was very gratifying to him, because it afforded
him an opportunity, without stepping aside from his
regular work, to carry out his cherished plan and com-
plete a college course of study. It is easy to imag-
ine that he would not throw away an opportunity for
which he had been so long waiting. The obstacles
to be overcome, however, were well-nigh insurmount-
able. His ministerial labors were more than enough
to tax the utmost intellectual and physical energies
of one man, especially if that one was already some-
what worn down by severe labor. In addition to
his preaching, he was also chaplain of the college.
It was his duty to attend prayers in the morning.
In those days the time of prayers was not determined
by the convenience of the students. With early
dawn the bell summoned them to their public devo-
tions. His work was also increased by the character
of the audience wrhom he addressed. The demands
were more exacting here than they were in ordinary

26 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

congregations. None of these things moved him
from his purpose. From the fact that he graduated
during the second year of his pastorate in Carlisle,
it is probable that he entered the junior class.
He did not fail to improve his long-sought advan-
tages. The early morning hours found him at his
studies, and midnight often witnessed his protracted
labors.

His perseverance in his studies was crowned with
success. He graduated in 1848, the faculty confer-
ring on him the degree of A.B. and A.M. at the
same time, an honor as richly deserved as it was
generously bestowed. It is also worthy of remark that
during part of this time he also taught a class in the
college. Under the pressure of so much labor it is
not surprising that his health declined, but he did not
yield his charge. In the summer of his second year
he went to York Springs, Va., and was confined most
of the winter following to his room. While he
was here for his health he wrote a letter to Mrs.
Nadal, in which he mentions what was no doubt the
beginning of the disease which, twenty-two years
afterward caused his death. The physician told him
that a week at the springs would cure him. But,
alas ! while the springs no doubt improved his health,
the promised cure never took place.

Of his style, both as a preacher and a writer, at this
time we cannot give a better portraiture than by
quoting a notice in the a Christian Advocate and
Journal " of a funeral discourse preached by him,
during his pastorate at Carlisle, on the death of Pro-
fessor Merritt Caldwell, of Dickinson College. " We
have seldom read a funeral discourse with more

MEMOIR OF B. R. NADAL, B.J). 2J

interest than the one before us has inspired. It
portrays the character of our late excellent friend
and brother, Professor Caldwell, with a fidelity which
will be admitted at once by all who knew him.
The style is vigorous and direct, without tinsel or
extravagance, but often rising into manly elo-
quence, and always perspicuous and chaste. We
commend the sermon not only to the numerous
friends of Professor Caldwell, but to the public gen-
erally, as a strong portraiture of a strongly marked
character."

The Conference in the spring of 1 849 was held at
Staunton, Va. His health was not sufficiently re-
stored to enable him to take a regular charge, and he
was accordingly appointed " Agent of Baltimore
Female College." After a careful consideration of
the matter, it was decided that he could not engage
in it with success, and he was on that ground relieved.
There was at this time in Baltimore an independent
Church called Duncan's, from the name of its pastor,
Rev. Dr. Duncan. It was one of the strongest con-
gregations in the city, and wielded an immense
influence. Dr. Duncan was a man of much ability
and power, and a great pulpit orator, but was at this
time partially disabled by paralysis, so that it was
necessary for his congregation to supply his place, at
least temporarily. Dr. Nadal, having no charge at the
time and being able to do partial work, was invited
by the Church to supply their pulpit. It was an invi-
tation creditable to him, and offered him for the time
a wide field of usefulness. He took counsel with the
Bishop and with his friends generally, and having
been advised by them to accept the position he did

2 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

so, and entered upon his labors either in the month
of June or July. He went as a Methodist preacher,
the congregation requiring no modification whatever
of his views or of his preaching. During his con-
nection with this Church he preached once a day,
sometimes twice, Dr. Duncan himself preaching
occasionally. The year was one of enjoyment and
profit both to himself and the congregation. They
would no doubt gladly have chosen him to remain
with them as their pastor. But now that his health
was sufficiently restored, through the comparative
lightness of his labors, he determined to return to
the itinerant ranks. His connection with this Church
and with Dr. Duncan was always regarded by him as a
green spot in his life, to which he looked back in after
years with unmixed pleasure.

In 1850 his appointment was to High-street, Balti-
more, an old and strong Church. The people rallied
around him, and he here put forth all his energies to
promote their welfare. The relation which they
sustained to each other was more than official. It
was the shepherd gently leading his flock, and the
sheep trustingly following the shepherd.

As a consequence of this mutual warmth of affec-
tion, his two years here were eminently successful
in all respects. His pulpit preparations, his pastoral
work, the prayer-meetings, the Sabbath-school, were
all carefully watched over, and the entire work pros-
pered. It was also a season of hard study. He did
not lay aside his books with his college graduation,
but devoted himself untiringly to the pursuit of
knowledge and culture. This was in many respects
one of the most pleasant charges of his life.

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 2g

His next field of labor was City Station, Balti-
more. This was not a new field, as he had been sta-
tioned here before. Familiar faces greeted him ; old
friendships were revived ; the past cast its influence
over the present, and the present over the past.
He went to work with a will. He labored hard,
especially at camp-meetings. But the labor was
beyond his strength, and during his second year of
service here his health failed again. His congrega-
tion, kindly appreciating his services and the necessity
of his relaxation from care, gave him a vacation and
sent him to Europe, where he remained three months,
enjoying the sights of the old world and recruiting
his shattered health. The substantial manifestations
of sympathy and affection on the part of his people
during these days of affliction were very grateful to
his heart, and were never forgotten. His intense
love of nature and of art gave him great enjoyment
in the many opportunities which his foreign trip
allowed him for observing both.

He appreciated very highly the opportunities, and
described the scenery in beautifully written letters.
In letter-writing his fine descriptive powers had
abundant play ; and had he stayed long enough in
Europe, and given his time to the preparation of a
book of travels, it would have been of surpassing in-
terest, as every thing of this kind in his hands was
invested with an atmosphere of poetry.

An extract from one of his letters to Mrs. Nadal is
all that space will allow. He thus describes his
arrival in England : "When we entered the Channel
we found it enveloped in a heavy fog — an English
fog — through which we made our way for another day

30 THE NEW LIFE DA WNIXG.

and a half, when it partly cleared away and disclosed
to our view the most beautiful rural landscapes my
eyes ever lighted upon. Not overwhelmingly grand,
like the mountain scenery of your native State, but
soft, gentle, charming. The farmers were just in the
midst of their hay harvests, and the scent of the half-
dried grass was wafted across the waters of the
Thames to our famished noses, which snuffed them
up as though the spirits of the very flowers had been
bathing their perfumed wings in the air about us.
O ! how delightful the odors of the land after smelling
salt water and being drenched in foam for sixteen
days — long, long days ! Of course the days grew
shorter as we advanced on our voyage, but still those
days on the sea were the longest I ever passed.
But to return to the landscape. The fields lay fresh
and green along the banks of the river, their surfaces
as smooth as floors, sloping away from the water's
edge up to the higher lands, crowned for the most
part with woods. And all through the fields them-
selves were scattered here and there clumps of
beautiful forest trees, relieving by their height and
their deeper green color the lighter green and more
extended surfaces of the fields. But the fields were
not all covered with grass. The harvest fields, ripe
and ripening, were there, waving in golden beauty to
the scytheman and reaper to come and gather them.
There also, after a little more careful looking, I saw
the fresh ground itself, with no growth at all upon it,
just prepared to receive seed, of what kind I know
not, but to me it was delightful, in contrast with the
monotonous blue of old ocean. About every half
mile on one side or the other of the river a neat

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 3 1

church was to be seen, generally built of stone, with
a tower, and surrounded by forest trees. There
stood the farm-houses ; there grazed the horses and
cows ; and on the whole rested that peculiar mist or
haze which never leaves London or its neighborhood
for a single day. This last feature — the haze — you
would think must be a disadvantage to the English
landscape, but it is just the reverse. It is true, you
see objects less distinctly, but for that reason your
view is more delightful. The haze conceals the
sharp angles and smooths the rough surfaces. . . .
Going into London, as we did, on a railroad bridge
which goes on the tops of the houses, the first thing
that struck me was the chimney-pots, tall and short,
which stand in rows on the tops of the chimneys.
They are generally earthenware, from two to four
feet high. There is not a chimney in London with-
out them. They make the city, when seen from
above, look like a vast congregation of potteries,
where every man has his sign on the top of his
house."

The two following years Dr. Nadal was a professor
in Indiana Asbury University. But in the spring of
1857 he returned to Baltimore Conference, and was
welcomed back by a rising vote. He was appointed
Presiding Elder of Roanoke District, in Western
Virginia, a large district when judged by modern
standards, but small, perhaps, when contrasted with
those of that day. It was a time when those great
waves of agitation on the subject of slavery were
rolling fiercely over the Border States. The position
which he occupied was one of great responsibility,
both in its ecclesiastical and in its national aspects.

32 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

It was his great work to guard the interests of the
Methodist Episcopal Church in that distracted sec-
tion of it. The battle between the Border citizens
of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, and
those of the Methodist Episcopal Church, had been
waged long and furiously from newspaper and journal
batteries. But ill-directed and vigorous firing clouded
the field in uncertainty and misapprehension. The
true position of the combatants could not be clearly
told. A clamor was raised for open single combat.
To this end the " Fincastle Democrat," of Fincastle,
Va., heralded forth in September, 1857, tne following
proclamation :

" To the Public : In vindication of the Methodist
Episcopal Church, South, against the insidious at-
tacks and influence of her enemies, the Rev. Leoni-
das Rosser, in compliance with the request of a
number of citizens, will deliver an address, in the
Court-House in Fincastle, on Tuesday, the 13th of
October, 1857."

The Rev. Leonidas Rosser was a member of
the Virginia Conference, who graduated, under Dr.
Wilbur Fisk, at the Wesleyan University, Middle-
town, and was the leader of the members of the
Methodist Episcopal Church, South, in that dis-
trict. Dr. Nadal was urgently solicited by many
members of the Methodist Episcopal Church to be
present, and to define the true position of his Church,
if assailed. He left home, averse to any discussion,
because he knew it would do neither Methodism nor
the cause of Christ any good. The Rev. Leonidas
Rosser spoke nearly all day, endeavoring to show
that the whole tendency and action of the Baltimore

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, B.I). 33

Conference since 1840 were in favor of abolition. He
tried to prove Ijis assertions by documentary evidence,
and denounced the whole Methodist Church, from
first to last, as an abolition organization.

The next day, October 14, Dr. Nadal (who did not
appear as a combatant at all) made a most triumph-
ant vindication of his Church and Conference against
the attacks of her opponents. The only clew we have
to the substance of his remarks on this occasion, as
he himself represented them at a later period before
the Baltimore Conference, is found reported in the
" Richmond Christian Advocate." It was written by
Rev. J. C. Granbury, of the Virginia Conference. It
was evidently intended to depreciate the speech of
Dr. Nadal, and to show him as the opponent of the
Southern people. It is quoted in a local Virginia
paper in order to show, as the editor says, " in what
estimation at least three fourths of the citizens of this
county are held by Rev. Dr. Nadal." It gives us,
however, a view of the nature of the struggle, and of
the intense agitation that attended it. The following
is the extract :

" Brother Nadal eloquently related his exploits and
denned the position of the Conference. . . . He
said that he came from the worst district in one re-
spect : no finer country, no more pleasant people
than his — but the Southern disease had gotten hold
there. He and his brethren had been badly abused
and called abolitionists, Seward higher-law men, Plug
Uglies, etc. It had been said that they would sneak
into the kitchens and run off negroes by the under-
ground railroad. There was only one paper in his
district, the ' Fincastle Democrat,' favorable to them.

3

34 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

They needed, therefore, a paper of their own, in which
they could repel the slanders against them. All the
'respectability,' even, outside of the Church, was on
their side, but a great effort was made to excite the
mob — the ragged fringes of the mob — against them.
His old friend Rosser had attempted to prove that
they were abolitionists, but he had vindicated them
against the charge. And what was the result ?
None had been lost to the Baltimore Conference on
Fincastle Circuit during the past year, and they had
added one hundred and eighty members, who more
than counterbalanced all previous losses. Rosser had
spoken hours at Salem, and another Southern Meth-
odist preacher had closed the discussion with a speech
four hours and a half in length ; yet the sun shines by
day and the stars look down by night on a more com-
pact Church at that place than before the debate. He
had distinctly avowed in these controversies that they
were not abolitionists, but were antislavery. The Balti-
more Conference, he had told the people, is an anti-
slavery body — antislavery on the basis of the Discipline.
Their opponents believed slavery a divine institu-
tion. Rosser had uttered the horrid doctrine that
the millennial sun would shine on the system of slav-
ery. Dr. N. had proposed to Rosser that he would
advocate his views in Richmond and Lynchburgh,
provided Mr. Rosser would promise him personal
security. This was refused. And yet, said Nadal,
if I cannot be permitted to proclaim and defend these
doctrines in these cities — the doctrines of Washing-
ton, Jefferson, and Monroe — then Virginia has more
sadly degenerated than I had supposed. He did not
believe that Rosser correctly represented Eastern

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 35

Virginia. The " New York Advocate " was a great
trouble to him. The editor was able and well-disposed ;
but he began to find it a difficult task to hold on to both
parties in the Church, and wished this Conference to
take care of itself. Some terrible abolition articles
appeared in that paper. Only a single copy is taken
in Lexington, and that by a Southern member. The
preachers of the Virginia Conference had looked
down on the Valley from the summits of Blue Ridge,
and had seen that it was a goodly land ; they coveted
and would certainly invade it. Shall they be driven
back ? A paper of their own could defend them from
all- attacks ; and as to any agitation which would be
excited in the North, if they must fall, let them fall
with open eyes."

Dr. Nadal, at the conclusion of his reply to Rosser,
told the people that he had been opposed to the whole
affair from the beginning ; that he was there simply
in defense of his Church and Conference, and that,
having made that defense, he was done, and no re-
marks from any one should provoke further reply.

It is not necessary to enter into the merits of that
discussion. Dr. Nadal regarded it as the most try-
ing, and at the same time the most useful, period of
his life. He regretted that the necessity for the con-
troversy had existed, but did not regret the part he
had taken in it. Yet its recollections were in his case
accompanied with no bitterness, and now that the
cause of the difficulty is no more, he, if living, would
be the first to welcome a complete fraternization
between the Churches which were then so wide
apart.

In 1858 Dr. Nadal was stationed at the Foundry

36 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

Church in Washington, D. C, where, in the capital of
the nation, he found a pleasant charge, and preached
two years with great acceptability. It was at this time
that he began to address himself more particularly to
national affairs in the pulpit. The war cloud was
then hanging over our country, and none knew how
soon it would burst. Dr. Nadal saw the danger, and
realized the necessity that the Church should rally to
sustain the cause of liberty and of national unity.
He preached the funeral sermon of Governor Hicks,
of Maryland, in which he portrayed his exalted serv-
ices to the nation in her hour of peril ; and while at
all times he maintained his views of right with great
conscientiousness, he yet secured the respect of those
from whose principles and aims he was compelled to
dissent. His preaching and pastoral labors here were
successful,' and he was much loved by the people of
his charge.

At the close of his labors at the Foundry Church
he was transferred to the New York East Conference,
and stationed at Sands-street, Brooklyn. It was an
important charge and a strong Church. While he
was there the war broke out. He at once took strong
ground in favor of the Government. Both in the
pulpit and by the press he did all in his power to
arouse the people and the country in behalf of union
and liberty.

The First Methodist Episcopal Church of New
Haven next welcomed him as pastor. There also he
faltered not in his maintenance of the cause of the
Union, and was bold in expressing his convictions.
The war still continued, and he regarded his influence
as a sacred trust, only to be employed on the side

MEMOIR OF B. II. NADAL, D.D. 37

which he believed to be that of liberty and justice.
He was respected in a marked degree by his congre-
gation, as well as by the inhabitants of that city gen-
erally ; and they still remember his success while with
them as preacher and pastor, and the fearlessness
with which he maintained his views on all public
questions.

At the close of his term in New Haven he was again
transferred to the .Baltimore Conference, and once
more stationed in Washington, this time at Wesley
Chapel. This pastorate was among the stirring
scenes of the war. He became well acquainted with
President Lincoln, and gave a hearty support to his
administration. At his death he was profoundly dis-
tressed, and poured forth in a discourse at his
funeral a nation's wail of sorrow as well as his own.

His life during these years belongs in part to the
nation's history, and can be traced more appropriately
in connection with his patriotic character. During
this period he also acted for a time as chaplain of
the United States Senate. From Washington he
was transferred to the Philadelphia Conference and
stationed at Trinity Church, Philadelphia. He was
received with marked kindness by the Philadelphia
Conference, and also by the Church of which he was
pastor. Here he closed his work as pastor in the
fall of 1867, and became, as already indicated, Pro-
fessor of Historical Theology in Drew Theological
Seminary.

We have thus rapidly reviewed Dr. Nadal's pastoral
life, omitting, however, much that would be pleasing
to his friends to recall. No doubt many of the most
important facts connected with a ministry of about a

3 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

third of a century in duration have been passed over,
but as they are not accessible to the writer, those who
know them will pardon their omission and allow
memory to supply the blanks. In closing the dis-
cussion of this aspect of his life, it only remains to
give a summary of his characteristics as a preacher.
He was an evangelical preacher. This was a natural
result of his theological views, which were in the
strictest sense orthodox. He had no sympathy with
the modern idea that high culture was necessarily
heterodox. As his knowledge widened, his cul-
ture matured, and his views enlarged, he increased
also in his attachment to the standard doctrines of
the Church of Christ. He was firmly attached also
to the great fundamentals of Methodism, and main-
tained them unflinchingly. Hence repentance, faith,
conversion, the witness of the Spirit, holiness of
heart and life, constituted the central themes around
which his preaching revolved. He saw the depths
of human guilt as revealed in the Bible, the inabil-
ity of man, unaided by divine grace, to save himself,
and also the rich provisions which had been made in
the Gospel for his salvation. Christ in his theology
was not merely a great teacher, nor even a perfect ex-
ample only, but the Atoner, possessed of both divinity
and humanity, who was crucified for men, " Where-
fore he is able to save them to the uttermost that
come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make
intercession for them." Hence the arrows of truth, as
they sped from his bow, went direct to the sinner's
heart, and when they had done their work he poured
in the oil of consolation, by commending the wounded
to Him of whom it is written, " He was wounded for

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 39

our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities :
the chastisement of our peace was upon him ; and
with his stripes we are healed."

His preaching was in harmony with the sentiment
so often on the lips of God's children :

" Deep are the wounds which sin has made;

Where shall the sinner find a cure ?
In vain, alas ! is nature's aid ;

The work exceeds her utmost power.

See in the Saviour's dying blood

Life, health, and bliss, abundant flow,

And in that sacrificial flood

A balm for all thy grief and woe."

While there were points in his views of theology
and Church polity in which he differed somewhat from
his brethren, he was always true to the doctrines and
to the work of Methodism. Dr. Crooks, his warm
friend, in his article on Dr. Nadal makes the following
observations, applying them to the others who passed
away about the same time as well as to him : " The fact
that he and his compeers who have so recently gone
down to the grave, the more widely they extended their
culture held only the more firmly to the heart-truths
of Methodist theology, is a lesson to the rising minis-
try, and a good omen for the Church's future. In its
foremost scholars it will find the firmest defenders of
its pure and simple faith." The matters on which he
expressed dissent from prevailing opinions were the-
oretical, and were to be found in his writings ; but his
preaching was full of the marrow and fatness of the
Gospel, addressing itself directly to the hearts of his
hearers, and bringing before them vividly the great
cardinal Scripture doctrines of sin and redemption.

40 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

He was thorough in Jus preparation for the pulpit.
He regarded the sermon as one of the most impor-
tant of human productions, and worthy of the best
powers of the preacher. No labor, in his view, was
more wisely expended than that which was spent in
preparation to preach. This is shown by his strict
care in this regard both in his earlier and later years.
It is demonstrated also by the large number of writ-
ten sermons which he has left — sermons on almost all
the topics on which a Christian pastor needs to ad-
dress a congregation. A few of them are given in
this volume ; enough for several volumes remain un-
published. They were mostly written in full, and
in his later years they were generally delivered from
brief notes or were read. His habit of reading ser-
mons in the pulpit was due not to a depreciation of
extemporaneous methods of address, but to his fine
critical taste, which could only be satisfied in this
way, and also to his belief that for him it was the
most effectual method of preaching the Gospel. His
sermons were chaste in style, full of thought, and
often rose to the highest order of eloquence. There
was also about him an atmosphere of poetry, which
he threw over both the subject and his treatment of
it, so that the most familiar themes were invested by
him with freshness and beauty. The manner of his
delivery harmonized with the thoroughness of his
preparation. It was not declamatory on the one
hand nor monotonous on the other. It was rather the
expression of the thoughts and sentiments of his
discourse in a manner adapted to them. There was
nothing artificial in his style. His introduction was
simple, and led naturally to his text. He stated

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 4 1

clearly and with quietness the point to be discussed,
and yet a careful observer would note that underneath
the calm exterior there was an under-current of deep
feeling. He was not generally demonstrative either
in gesticulation or in voice, and yet there was an
earnestness which expressed itself in the voice, in
the eye, in the countenance ; which communicated
itself to the audience, and often melted the hardest
hearts, and subdued for Christ the most rebellious
wills. There was in his preaching the absence of
all attempt at oratorical display, so intent was he in
presenting the thought which had taken possession
of his mind and heart, and which he wanted to com-
municate to his hearers.

He was a growing preacher. Some men develop
early and decline early. They reach what they regard
as the highest capacity and position possible to them,
and from that time they appear to make no progress.
With Dr. Nadal it was otherwise. He did not rest
satisfied with any attainments which he had made.
He would enter upon the preparation or delivery of
a sermon with as much enthusiasm and care in his
later, as he did in his earlier years. He sought those
from whom he might obtain useful information, in
order that he might gain hints by which to improve
himself. In one of his note-books he records the
facts which he elicited from Dr. Durbin, then at the
height of his fame as a pulpit orator : " December 7,
1850. Had a pleasant conversation with Dr. Durbin,
during which I introduced his great power in the
pulpit. My object was to learn from him, if possible,
the secret of that power. He told me, among other
things, that when in the pulpit he saw nobody in the

42 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

congregation, and therefore he had no fear of the
congregation ; he felt he had no business with it —
his business was to get out the thoughts which were
in his mind. He said he had never known but one
man who had influence over his courage while in the
pulpit, and that he had powers similar to his, perhaps,
in a higher degree. He stated that when he stood
in the pulpit he felt as though his mind were a sealed
chamber from which the external world was entirely
excluded ; and that this chamber was filled with
pictures as distinct as if real, which it was his aim to
transfer to the minds of the audience. A great point
in making this transfer he felt to be to present each
picture in its proper place, and to use no more words
in its presentation than were absolutely necessary.
Although he saw nobody in the congregation, yet he
saw every body, but he saw them not as bodies but as
minds, and felt that he was not looking at their feat-
ures, but at what they were thinking about, that is,
at what was indicated by their features. I have heard
my old friend Dr. Duncan make remarks very similar
to this last. His observation was, not only that he
saw nobody and yet every body, but also that he
seemed to be shut up in his own mind, seemed to be
inside of himself, which is very much Dr. Durbin's
figure of a sealed chamber.

" Dr. Durbin also said that he seemed to himself to
hold in his hands innumerable little cords, one of
them reaching and being fastened to every mind in
the house, which he felt himself to be gradually and
gently drawing to see if he could get their minds up to
his own — now drawing and now slackening, as occasion
required, until he felt they were all his own. As to

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 43

his gestures, he said he was conscious of none at all,
except when he was about to make an awkward one,
and then he became conscious of an effort to prevent
it, and in this way obtained a glimpse of the outward
world.

" Speaking of books, the Doctor said he had not read
a great many, but he had read the best and had
mastered them. There were to him three great
books, ' The Bible, Shakspeare, and Horace.' His
mode of preparation for the pulpit was to make a
simple outline, and then to depend on the occasion
for illustrations, thoughts, and words."

This characteristic of growth was shown in every
department of intellectual activity, and is distinctly
noticed by his valued friend, Dr. Crooks, in the fol-
lowing words :

" When we consider discriminatingly the lives of
literary men, we discern that there are some whose
early first-fruits are the best ; others, again, ripen
slowly, and have a long period of fruitage. Dr.
Nadal was of the latter class. Though beyond the
meridian of life, his mind was ever growing : its prod-
ucts were richer each successive year. The stores
of thought and truth which he had laboriously gath-
ered were made available by the vivacity and alert-
ness of his intellect. His mind was not a hortas
siccus — a cabinet of dried specimens of dead learning
— but a field full of the fragrance and freshness of living
growths. He felt that he had not done his best, and
was girding himself for larger tasks than he had be-
fore undertaken ; and, while intent on these, he fell
down and died. He died, as Bacon phrases it, ' in
warm blood,' running the race at the very top of his

44 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

speed. Yet he failed not, for he has won the prize
of his high calling, immortal, imperishable, which
Christ assures to all his own."

IV.
AS A WRITER.

If, as is asserted, " the pen is mightier than the
sword," then we may conclude that Dr. Nadal exerted
a wide influence, for he wielded a pen of rare brill-
iancy and power. His pen was the weapon with
which he fought many battles, and with which he
maintained many a righteous cause. The statement
of Dr. Crooks in his funeral discourse that as a writer
he has left behind him but few equals and no supe-
riors, will be confirmed, we think, by all who are
familiar with his literary productions. The first thing
that impresses us in this connection is the variety of
subjects on which he wrote with almost equal facility.
Ethics, philosophy, politics, religion, poetry, each were
discussed by him when called forth by the duties
of the hour. The following quotations from the sub-
jects which he had noted in his diary as suitable
topics for editorials or essays will best show the in-
tensely practical character of his mind, as well as the
breadth of his capacities in this direction :

Internationa] Morals ; Gentlemen of the Bible ;
Behavior in Christ ; Southern Civilization ; Trollope's
Blunders ; Home, Mother, Heaven ; Church Hospi-
tality ; Public Politeness ; God's Personality as Em-
bracing all Human Excellences without its Limita-
tions ; The Evidential Force of the Voluntary Suffer-
ing of the Apostles in Connection with the Admitted

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 45

Genuineness of Gospel History ; A Mother's Beauty ;
Pride of Originality as Compared with the Divine
Motives of Orthodox Religion ; When Men present
Christ's Doctrines let them get them out of the
Bible ; Owning our Friends ; The Danger to Young
Men from the Side of Literature and Science ; Ritu-
alism Raises the Question, Whether or Not Intelli-
gence Shall Leave the Pulpit ; Men in the Book and
Newspaper Business, including Printers, likely to
become Infidels ; Looseness of the Notions about
the War — Our War one of Moral Principle ; Social
Life and Office ; Methodism as Compared with Puri-
tan Churches on the one hand, and Episcopal and
other Churches on the other hand ; Dead Flowers ;
Manifestations of Feeling in the Congregation — Ap-
plause ; Funny People, Speakers and Writers ; Leaf-
Ripening in Autumn ; The Bible Society the only
formal expression of Church Union ; The Birds I have
Known ; The Victories in the Valley ; Lincoln's
Letter to General Conference ; Political Disabilities
of the Clergy ; Sore Spots on the Mind ; Poetic
Wakefulness ; Sense not Depth ; The Public Press
and Religion ; Returning Borrowed Books — How
many Books dishonestly in our Libraries now ? Death
a Tunnel, but the two Ends in different Worlds ; Man
will Worship — Is it more Rational to Worship a Hero
or God ? Conceit of Men of Science ; Effect of Age
on Love of Nature.

His writings occupied a wide range both as to style
and thought. It is difficult to decide in which of the
different kinds of writing he excelled. His pen traced
with equal ease the grave and the gay, and he could
draw an historical portrait or follow a close argument

46 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

as if either were his chosen and only field. For
some months previous to his death he had been
engaged in the preparation of an elaborate work on
" The Presuppositions of Christianity," which would
have embodied, had he been spared to complete it,
the results of his long and careful studies, and of his
matured culture and experience.

Dr. Nadal wrote much for the periodical press, both
secular and religious. Official and non-official Church
papers, magazines, the Methodist Quarterly Review,
and M'Clintock and Strong's Cyclopedia, frequently
published contributions from his pen. His marvelous
versatility in this regard was shown by the eagerness
with which the various grades and kinds of publica-
tions sought the written products of his brain. His
capacities in this direction were constantly growing,
and, grand as were his literary productions, so far as
men could foresee, the noblest of them were yet to
come. Judging from what he had accomplished by
his pen during the last ten years of his life, it is
safe to assume that in his death in the maturity of
his powers the Church sustained a great and irrepa-
rable loss.

The power and skill with which he wielded his pen
cannot be better stated than in the language of Dr.
Crooks, from whom we have already quoted, whose
intimate acquaintance with his literary works gave
him special opportunity for a correct j udgment. After
speaking of Dr. Nadal as a preacher, he adds :

" But effective as he was in the use of the spoken
word, in writing he was almost without a peer in
the American Methodist Church. He loved the
pen, and wielded it as a scepter with kingly power.

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 47

His keen discrimination enabled him to separate
the essential from the accidental, and to come at
once to the core of his subject. A lively fancy
gave freshness to his treatment, while an unfailing
felicity of expression furnished appropriate vesture
to every thought. His range of writing was very
broad. During the war his mind was never at
rest. He was a splendid soldier in that battle of
opinion which was as keenly and stubbornly fought
as the contest on the field. Without unyielding con-
viction, the nation was powerless. It was indispen-
sable to the success of the national cause that the
true question at issue should be set before the people
in the clearest light, that they should be urged for-
ward to duty, that they should be cheered when de-
spondent, and that, even in the hour of victory, their
hearts should be directed in thankfulness to God.
During the whole period of the Rebellion Dr. Nadal
was indefatigable: lectures, addresses, war-sermons
and newspaper editorials were continually pouring
from his tireless pen."

Like all writers of power, Dr. Nadal communed
much with nature. For him, the trees, the flowers,
the fields, mountain and valley, bird and beast, sun-
shine and shower, summer and winter, were not dumb,
but spake intelligibly, and he understood their lan-
guage. Through his pen he was the interpreter of
their utterances to others. He wrote about them with
the warm sympathies of his heart fully stirred, and
few can read his gushing, tender words without a
deeper love for the beautiful and the good than they
had before. In the discussion of such subjects he
was pre-eminent, and many of his essays will rank

48 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

among the finest productions in English literature.
Some of them may properly be called prose poems.

As a specimen of his style on aesthetic topics, we
quote from the "Methodist" one of his editorials.
The theme is,

Sleeping Beauty.

" Is there, indeed, beauty in sleep ? Sleep is said
to be the brother of death, and, we add, so much the
better for death. In sleep the eyes, which give radi-
ance and meaning to the face, and which pour their
tides of light along the wrinkles or dimples of laughter,
are shut ; the bosom heaves mechanically ; the mouth,
perhaps, is open, and the breath, coming and going
heavily, may become a snore. Where now is the
graceful and agile movement? where the sparkling
wit, the melting mood, the sage or gracious discourse ?
There is, indeed, nothing of all these ; and yet there
is beauty here, and all the nobler for being some-
what recondite. What sweetness in the sense of
rest that clings to the thought of sleep ! ' So He giveth
his beloved sleep.' Its idea is that every vein is now
distilling its blood afresh for renewed health and
vigor. All the joints are lubricating themselves in
fragrant unguents ; the sore feet are throwing off the
ache of the day's long walks or tiresome standing,
and the hot brain, especially, is soothed into coolness.

" But, grateful as this is, it is only the covering
under which beauty slumbers. Deep down is a
deeper charm of sleep. The keen intellect is whet-
ting its instruments ; the creative imagination is
preparing for new structures of thought ; the luxuri-
ant fancy is mixing her colors and tying her brushes

MEMOIR OF B. II NADAI, D.D. 49

for lovelier touches ; and even the heart is clearing its
recesses, and gathering fresh delicacy into its now
unconscious throbs. The intellect, the heart, the
animal nature — all weave themselves new raiment of
beauty in sleep. Healthy sleep is an angel planting
the stalks of a power whose blossom is beauty.

" There is, however, another sleep than that of men
or animals — a sleep of nature. The winter is the
night of vegetable life, and its repose is not without
beauty. True, the white ground is without variety ;
the brooks are dumb ; the bare trees stretch their
naked limbs up into the biting and frosty air. But
the world is only stripped for slumber. The vital
forces of tree and shrub, of meadow and garden, have
only gathered themselves up and retired to their
warm caverns — their roots. All the vast power of
the earth's vegetable population, which produces
bread in a thousand forms, which breaks forth into
fruits and nuts, into grass and blossom , which feeds
man and beast and bird ; which runs riot — not for its
own sake but for ours — in the summer-time — all this
has only retired ; it still lives ; it is no longer above
the ground, but under it.

"Walk out into the cold air; drop, in thought,
below the frosty surface of the fields, and in a moment
you move amid the life no longer visible above. Walk
through these groves of roots, swollen with redundant
life. Here is the place of vegetable loves and dreams.
Benumbed above, here life cuddles and crowds into
happy company below the reach of the blast. The
thoughtful feel under their feet the pulsation of a
powerful, though a repressed life, and tread respect-
fully. The grains of earth are the blankets of the

SO THE NEW LIFE DA WHINS.

fairest and noblest forms of life. If we had eyes of
sufficient sharpness, we might see in the waiting sap
the beauties of the coming spring. That colorless
droplet on the end of your penknife is the soul of a
peach blossom ; that moisture which you wipe from
your finger with your handkerchief might, next spring,
have glowed on your table in a strawberry ; that mud
which you leave on the scraper is a possible pink or
lily or morning glory. O earth ! what a mother thou
art ! Thou takest thy children not only on thy bosom,
but into it, and wrappest them about, not with thy rai-
ment, but with thyself. Thou waitest and watchest with
them, and when the warm season comes, thou openest
to them thy myriad doors, as happy to see their glory and
pride in going forth from thine arms as when thine em-
brace locked them in security and rocked them to sleep.
" Another thought belonging here is that this slum-
ber of nature is power. The ship all sail and no bal-
last is gay, perhaps, but weak. She is not rooted in
her element ; she does not press down deep into the
water and bring the watery stays up about her sides
as a support. The tree in summer shoots up, is
occupied with its finery, or bends anxiously under
its harvest, for the supply of animal wants, but in
winter it grows downward ; it nestles, it takes, again
and again, a new hold on the soil, and prepares to
throw out its life in the coming spring. The winter
establishes, the summer exhibits ; the winter writes
the sermons, the summer preaches them ; the win-
ter gathers and increases strength, the summer
exerts it for the joy and the benefit of man and beast ;
the winter repairs the broken and dismantled chariot
of the earth ; the summer mounts it, covered with

5i

garlands, and accompanied by music, and finishes a
gay drive at the homely door of winter.

" And if the woody life that sleeps around us is
resting and strengthening, may it not be so with the
human sleepers, our friends whom we thoughtlessly
call dead ? Sleep's dark-visaged brother gives only
a profounder rest. To the good he gives better than
dreams. The spirit has found a perpetual summer
without oppression of heat, and without needs ; and
the body, like wine, is refining during the years of
waiting. It sleeps to be raised immortal."

Among his last literary labors was the collection
of materials for the biography of his colleague and
friend, Dr. M'Clintock ; but he had scarcely begun his
work when death closed his own career, and his lov-
ing task, as well as the story of his own life, was left
to other hands.

V.

AS A PROFESSOR.

It has been mentioned already that in the year
1854 he accepted a call to a professor's chair in the
Indiana Asbury University, where he remained three
years. His department of instruction was " Belles-
Lettres and History." Of his life in this field he has
left no record except that which was written on the
hearts and lives of those brought under his influence.
That his career there was highly successful is shown
by the following letter, kindly furnished by Rev. S. A.
Lattimore, now of Rochester University, and Profes-
sor also in " Asbury University" during the time of
Dr. Nadal's connection with it :

5 2 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

" My acquaintance with Dr. Nadal began in Septem-
ber, 1854, when he came among us to enter upon his
duties as Professor of Belles-Lettres and History. We
had been prepared to receive him cordially, but when
we felt the sunny atmosphere which he brought with
him, and in which he lived, we all gave him at once a
warm place in our hearts. His characteristic interest
in young men and my admiration for his fine literary
tastes soon drew us together in the intimacy of per-
sonal friendship, notwithstanding the disparity of our
years, I being then the junior member of the Faculty.

" He entered upon the work of his professorship
with a glowing enthusiasm which never deserted him,
and which unconsciously stimulated his associates as
well as his students. He enjoyed that peculiar popu-
larity among his students which belongs only to the
teacher who possesses the heart to enter deeply into
sympathy with young men, and also the power to
inspire them with his own devotion to earnest work.
As a professor, he was, therefore, of necessity, emi-
nently successful.

"As a minister, he had frequent opportunity to
preach in the chapel of the University and in the
various pulpits of the city, where the earnestness of
his manner and the freshness and vigor of his thought
always rendered his discourses deeply impressive.

" Still, at the mention of his name I find myself
instinctively recurring rather to the many delightful
hours we spent together in the study or in the family
circle. During one whole winter, one evening a
week he, with the lamented Dr. Bragdon, who was
then Professor of Latin, and myself, spent in studies
which we were pursuing in common.

MEMOIR OF B. II. XADAI, D.D. 53

" Interesting as he was in the pulpit, or in his lect-
ure-room, nowhere did he appear to better advantage
than at home. The amenities and grace of his man-
ners, his love for his family, which beamed in his face
and spoke in his voice, filled his whole house with
happiness which he delighted to share with his friends.
' Come, and bring the children ! ' was the cordial invi-
tation he always gave, and when the children came
they were sure of being made as welcome and happy
as were their parents.

" Thus sped away his three toilsome, successful,
happy years at Greencastle. I think he always him-
self considered it a sort of pleasant episode in his
life, which gave him special facilities for study, and
was, in some measure, a preparation for the wider
sphere he subsequently filled. In obedience to his
sense of duty he resigned his professorship and re-
sumed the labors of the pastorate in the Baltimore
Conference. The regret of the Faculty, students,
trustees, and citizens at his loss was universal, for the
generosity of his nature and the beautiful sincerity
of his Christian life had attached us all to him very
strongly. Among the many precious friendships it
has been my privilege to form in the past, to none
do I now recur, from this distance of time and of
place, with more delightful and tender memories than
the warm Christian friendship and fellowship it was
my happiness to enjoy with Dr. Nadal at Green-
castle.

" A year ago I was journeying westward to spend
a few days at the University amid old familiar scenes
after an absence of ten years. I was busy wondering
whom I should meet and whom I should miss — the

5 4 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

latter seeming the larger company — when my eye fell
on a dispatch saying, ' Dr. Nadal died yesterday. '

" It was doubly sad to carry with me this new
bereavement as 1 entered again the door which he
had entered with me so often, and as I trod again
alone his favorite walks ; and yet I felt that he had
only joined that ever-growing number of departed
friends who still abide on earth in memory, and who,
perchance, thronged invisibly those shady walks and
familiar halls to bear me unseen company."

After leaving Asbury University Dr. Nadal devoted
himself for ten years to the pastorate, when he was
elected to the Professorship of Historical Theology
in the Theological Seminary at Madison, N. J.,
just founded by Mr. Daniel Drew, as a " Centenary
Gift" to the Methodist Episcopal Church. He
accepted the position, and entered upon its duties in
the fall of 1867. The institution was about to open.
Every thing connected with it was new. Dr. M'Clin-
tock was there as the President, and Dr. Nadal was
the only other member of the Faculty who had at
that time been elected. Although the general plan
had been made by Dr. M'Clintock and the Trustees,
yet much remained to tax the head and heart of these
two servants of Christ, both of whom have now
passed to their reward. There was no house pre-
pared for the reception of Dr. Nadal's family in the
Seminary grounds, and he came from Philadelphia to
secure one somewhere in the neighborhood of the
Seminary when the writer of this sketch first met him.
On these excursions of business he carried with him
his Church History, and seemed entirely absorbed in
his work. Whatever concerned this institution inter-

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, B.B. 55

ested him deeply. He at once identified himself with
it, and from that time until his death labored unceas-
ingly in public and in private to advance its interests,
and to train the young men committed to his charge
to become able ministers of the Gospel. After the
death of Dr. M'Clintock the Acting Presidency of
the Seminary devolved upon Dr. Nadal. He per-
formed all the duties of the office with marked ability.
He occupied this position at the time of his death.
His career in the Seminary will long be remembered
as eminently useful and successful, both by the mem-
bers of the Faculty who were associated with him
and also by the students whom he taught. It is
needless to attempt a detailed statement of his method
of instruction. Let it suffice to say that he made
himself master of his subject — not its letter merely,
but its spirit — and then endeavored to convey both
letter and spirit to the mind and heart of his pupils.
The following sketch of him as a Professor in Drew
Theological Seminary is from the pen of Rev. S.
M. Vernon, a graduate of the Seminary, and now a
member of the New York Conference. It appeared
originally in " The Christian Advocate," and will
sufficiently illustrate this part of his life :

"Though in the pulpit one of the most gifted men
of the Church, Dr. Nadal evidently found his true
vocation as a professor of theology. During his long
service in the pastorate he pursued with characteristic
energy an extensive course of study in theology and
philosophy, from which he derived not only increased
pulpit power, but also a special fitness for his late
position. Deprived of the training of the schools,
self-culture in him attained a rare thoroughness and

$6 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

completeness of finish. Entering the ministry at the
very outskirts of knowledge, he steadily advanced
till he stood in the front rank of cultivated intellect
and theological knowledge, his own mental force work-
ing out the highest results. His intellect was round,
full, and harmonious, strong at every point, yet well
marked by special developments. His imagination
was vigorous and fertile, tending at times, perhaps, to
excessive luxuriance, yet restrained by a delicate and
refined taste. No dogma or theory was so dry or
abstruse that he could not give it a form of beauty.
The singing birds, the opening flowers, the waving
forests, and the gathering storm, as indeed all the
beauties of nature, found in him an enthusiastic ad-
mirer, who was able to make them the fitting orna-
ments of deep, eternal truths.

"He was also distinguished for a marvelous analyt-
ical power, which penetrated obscurity, detected
subtle distinctions and relations, and discovered the
root or life-principle of things with rare facility and
force. With lynx-like vision he followed heresies and
dogmas through all their combinations and disguises,
with a master's hand separating the tangled fibers of
truth and error. But to interpret Dr. Nadal's intel-
lect correctly I think we shall have to go deeper than
his glowing imagination or his penetrating analysis,
and we shall find his chief mental characteristic in an
instinctive profundity of thought by which, as a kind
of intuition, he was enabled to grasp at first thought
the deepest meanings of a question. He was not
given to long and difficult processes, but compre-
hended with a depth of understanding and with a
breadth of intellectual grasp rarely equaled. He saw

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. S7

the truth as by a mental vision, and was conscious as
well as convinced of it.

" Those who had the privilege of his instructions can
never forget how thoroughly he was penetrated with
the great doctrines of orthodox Christianity. They
were entwined among the most delicate fibers of
his being, and seemed to envelop him as a mystic
cloud, which he irradiated by the brilliancy of his
own genius.

"Though an independent thinker, he was radically
orthodox on all the questions of controversy in the
Church past and present, and, what is more, was
deeply imbued with the orthodox spirit in the pre-
eminence he gave the great doctrines of grace. Now
that he is gone, it is sweet to remember, as throwing
light upon his own experience, how ardently he de-
fended the broadest orthodox view of the deep and
utter sinfulness of human nature, and then with equal
ardor gave the widest scope and the highest merit
to the atonement ; and how his whole being was set
for the defense of the divine human nature of the
great Atoner — the 'God-man.' His mental and
spiritual being seemed to be a crystallization of these
great elements of Christian faith. He had passed
through the conflict with doubt which comes upon
almost every thinker, and came forth victor, to have
and to hold truth forever as the counterpart of his
being.

" The lectures he delivered to his classes were not
the dry details of science ; they were the warm out-
breathings of great truths which lived in his heart.
With Dr. Nadal the heart was a glowing furnace that
warmed to blood heat every thought of the brain, and

5 8 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

sent it forth with a vital energy that insured effect.
Over this vigorous warmth played, in ever-varying hues
and forms, a most classical elegance and fertility of
expression acquired by extensive reading in the best
Latin and Greek as well as English authors. What-
ever truth lay in his mind lacked neither force from his
heart nor elegance from his rhetoric in its utterance.
Even in his lecture-room he often delivered passages
that would have thrilled the largest auditory.

" As an element of character in a theological pro-
fessor never to be forgotten by the student, Dr. Nadal
was kind, sympathetic, genial, and companionable.
The way to his heart was short and always open.
The student found in him a father in counsel and
sympathy, and was always welcome to his home and
study. Green among the memories of a life-time
will ever remain a four months' vacation spent with
him on the beautiful Seminary grounds in daily inter-
course. Even yet there lingers something of that
matchless personal magnetism which then, and
through other months of study and friendship, fell
like the dews of heaven upon me.

" That great soul has now passed into the heavens
and is at rest, leaving, as we trust, the prophet's
mantle behind. I can wish nothing better for Meth-
odism than that its rising ministry may have many
such instructors."

Dr. Nadal brought to bear also upon his work a
high order of critical and exact scholarship, as well as
extended and varied reading. He was well versed in
the classics, read German with ease, and had given
special attention to purely literary and rhetorical
studies. It was one of his strongest mental character-

MEMOIR OF B. K NABAL, B.B. 59

istics to do every thing thoroughly. Hence the in-
tensity of his labors as a student never flagged, and
at the time of his death he had still the enthusiasm
of youth in the pursuit of knowledge. It is regarded
as essential to finished scholarship to have an ac-
quaintance not only with the great principles of a
subject, but with its minute details. This was
especially true of him. He was not merely a good
scholar, he was also a fine critic. He detected
inaccuracies at once, especially those which were
offensive to a cultivated literary taste. These quali-
ties made him very efficient as an instructor. The
breadth and accuracy of his knowledge, his power
of communicating truth with clearness and force,
united with readiness and skill in criticising the
productions of others, were well calculated to secure
for him the eminence as a professor which he
obtained.

VI.

AS A PATRIOT.

The great war which waged so fiercely for four
years between the North and South occurred at that
period of Dr. Nadal's life when he was at the height
of his influence and usefulness.

When the rebellion first broke out he was pastor
of Sands-street Methodist Episcopal Church in
Brooklyn, N. Y. His influence was at once cast with
the Union cause, and from that time until peace was
restored by the surrender of the armies of the rebel-
lion he never faltered in his devotion to his country.

Allusion has already been made, in the review of

60 THE NEW LIFE DA WNIXG.

his pastoral life, to his efforts in the stirring times
of the war. He was intensely hostile to slavery, and
did all that he could for its extirpation. It is difficult
to estimate the results of each individual's work in
mental and physical struggles of such absorbing
interest, and where so many bore a part ; but of Dr.
Nadal it is safe to affirm that he did much for the
cause which lay so near his heart.

This conclusion is evident from the pastoral posi-
tions which he occupied during those years when
slavery and the war were subjects uppermost in every
community. Sands-street, Brooklyn, N. Y., First
Methodist Episcopal Church, New Haven, Conn.,
and Wesley Chapel in Washington, D. C, were the
Churches from whose pulpits he made those earnest
appeals in behalf of liberty and the maintenance of
the Union. These Churches had in them many men
whose influence was great not only at home but in the
Government, and his sentiments, so freely expressed
both in public and private, were a means of greatly
strengthening the friends of liberty and law. His
ever fertile and powerful pen was always at the
service of his country. During those years of war
it was constantly employed on some topic bearing
directly or indirectly on the great struggle. Some
of the strongest articles of some of the ablest news-
papers and magazines of the country were from his
pen.

The Rev. Robert Aikman, Pastor of the Presbyterian
Church, Madison, N. J., wrote a letter after Dr. Nadal's
death to the " Evangelist " of New York, in which he
referred to the subject of this memoir: "Dr. Nadal
was a very able and admirable man ; of thorough

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, 6 1

manliness, independent in his opinions, of scholarly
acquirements, and eloquent in speech. Born in Mary-
land, and his early ministry exercised in the slave-
holding States, no man was more bold in his loyalty to
the country during the rebellion. Both these men
made their influence widely felt through the country
and the Church during all those fearful years, never
bating faith or courage. One of the most decisive
and powerful editorial articles in an influential daily
paper at the crisis time of the rebellion was from the
pen of Dr. Nadal."

The Rev. Dr. Curry, in an editorial in " The Chris-
tian Advocate," referring to his pastorate at Wesley
Chapel, Washington, D. C, said : " Here he remained
for two years. These were the later years of the war,
and the period of its close, a time of special peril to
the country ; and it is not too much to claim for him
that his influence, both in public and private, was
of real value to the cause of the Union. He enjoyed
the confidence of President Lincoln and others in
high position, and was recognized as a faithful sup-
porter of the cause of the Union."

His personal friendly relations with President Lin-
coln afforded him an opportunity to exercise a direct
influence in national affairs, and he was regarded at the
executive mansion as a trustworthy adviser. His ac-
quaintance with the President enabled him often to in-
tercede successfully for the pardon of offenders. He
was without any bitterness of feeling toward his old
friends in the South, and was always glad to aid them
whenever he could do so conscientiously. The last
time he saw Mr. Lincoln was on a visit to Richmond
just after its fall. In a letter dated April 9, 1865, he

62 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

says : " I am here in the strongest of the Rebellion. I
was afraid my passports could not get me through
yesterday, but, looking about, I met old Abe and told
him my fix. He forthwith took a slip of paper from
my hand, and my pencil, and wrote me a pass to go
where I pleased. One third of Richmond has been
consumed, and the people are angry with their author-4
ities for doing it. I asked one if there were many.,
Union people in Richmond, and his reply was that
the fire had made a good many to-day."

This pass from President Lincoln was written just
one week before his death. He once told me how it
was given him. He was trying to make his way
to Richmond to see his son Thomas, who was
in one of the regiments there. The authorities
would not let him go through on his pass from
the Secretary of War, and while he was wandering
along the river bank, wondering what to do and where
to turn, he saw a row-boat push off from a vessel at
anchor in the middle of the stream. The boat had
but one passenger, who proved to be the President.
Mr. Lincoln at once helped him out of his difficulty,
and wrote a pass upon an envelope, holding the paper
up against a board fence. Dr. Nadal's affection and
enthusiasm for Lincoln were very strong. He never
saw him again, and cherished tenderly the circum-
stances of this last interview.

The following extract from the " Washington
Chronicle " precedes a report of Dr. Nadal's sermon
on the death of Mr. Lincoln, and appropriately
follows the incident which has just been narrated :

"Wesley Chapel, Methodist Episcopal. — Rev. Dr. Nadal,
the Pastor of this congregation, only returned from his visit to Rich-

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 63

mond on Saturday, and when, at the wharf, he was informed of the
death of the President, he wept bitterly. The first hymn, announced
by Dr. Nadal, and well sung by the choir and congregation, com-
menced thus: 'And must this feeble body fail?' His prayer was
exceedingly appropriate and eloquent. The anthem by the choir
was the hymn beginning, ' God moves in a mysterious way.' Rev.
Bishop Simpson was on the pulpit platform with Dr. Nadal."

A few quotations from the sermon, showing his
high appreciation of the character and public services
of the President, who had just been assassinated, are
all that can here be given :

" Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul had almost dwelt in
silence." Psalm xciv, 17.

" One of the calamities reaching beyond human
aid is at this moment upon our country. The Chief
Magistrate, the commander-in-chief of our armies
and navy, the chosen and beloved representative of
the sovereignty of this great people, in the midst of
a glorious, a virtuous, a successful career, attracting
the admiring gaze of the civilized world, has fallen by
the foul hands of an assassin.

" We need not inquire what motive prompted an
act so unutterable in wickedness, so bold, so defiant
in manner. In the midst of the festivities of an even-
ing entertainment, amid blazing gaslight, in the pres-
ence of more than a thousand citizens, the murderer,
quick as a flash of lightning, accomplishes his pur-
pose, leaps on the stage, wildly flourishing a great
knife, loudly repeating a sentence of Latin, in which
he brands his noble victim as a tyrant, and, with the
word ' Revenge' on his lips, he makes his escape by a
back door. The depth of our trouble to-day may be
read in the swollen eyes and tear-stained faces of our
whole loyal people ; in the draped dwellings and

64 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

stores and offices of the millions that loved and hon-
ored the noble and glorious dead.

" Abraham Lincoln was more than a ruler ; he was
the father of his people. And this day, in which the
sun of victory is dimmed by his death — in which the
Churches of the land would have been jubilant with
the song of victory — gloom is upon us. We cover
ourselves with sackcloth, we sit in ashes, and as a
nation forget our victories, our power, our renown, in
the dreadful calamity which has overtaken us. ' O
Lord, our God, thou hast removed from us the desire
of our eyes ; lover and friend hast thou put far
from us, and our acquaintance into darkness.' Well
may the nation, as it staggers under the blow, say
with Elisha, ' My father, my father, the chariots of
Israel, and the horsemen thereof!'

" This event has come upon us in the midst of a
most important crisis. The death, of a great man
is always a marked event, though he may be a
mere philosopher, poet, or historian. Where genius
has fixed its shrine we watch the flickering life with
breathless interest. When death fixes his seal on
the noble and honored clay, we wake the civilized
world with the echoes of our sorrow. But when the
man, at the time of his death, is a power in the govern-
ment of a great country, and has woven himself into
the web of its history, his death touches us at points
where life is most real.

'•'Who does not remember the pall spread over the
country by the death of General Harrison, and by that
of General Taylor ? With what pomp of grief the
nation mourned throughout its length and breadth !
Their deaths, however, occurred in no such crisis as

MEMOIR OF B. H. KABAL. B.B. 65

the present. They filled the Presidential chair at
periods comparatively calm. The strifes of their
official careers, however animated, were strifes of
words, or at best of ideas, which had not yet armed
themselves for bloodshed. They died, too, peacefully
in their beds. But the pistol which was fired in Tenth-
street on Friday night killed the chief of the nation in
the midst of a terrible struggle for national existence.

" The late Chief Magistrate fell, after a war of four
years against the most monstrous and stupendous
rebellion known to the whole course of history ; after
scores of bloody battles had been fought ; after the
armies of the foe had been substantially conquered,
scattered, and, as armies, annihilated ; after the
cause of the war had almost utterly perished. But to
conquer and pull down is one thing, and to recon-
struct and reunite is another. At this moment the
elements of society at the South are in a state of
perfect upheaval. Anarchy dominates, the wreck
and ruins of their former peculiar life. Social life
pauses, and awaits the molding hand of orderly and
creative authority, and the hand that should have
accomplished it is still in death. We must try new
counsels, new pilots, who, whatever may be their
wisdom or virtue, yet remain to be tested.

" Who does not stand at this historic moment of
time, when the shattered power of the foe lies in
confusion and disorder behind us, and the difficult,
dangerous, and delicate work of reconstruction before
us, and feel himself oppressed with a sense of the
recent calamity ?

" The sad occurrence of Friday night, however,
comes much nearer to us than even this, President

66 TEE NEW LIFE DA WJTLWG.

Lincoln had taken hold upon the people of this nation
as no other President has done since the days of
him who was ' first in war, first in peace, and first
in the hearts of his countrymen.' Grateful and
discriminating history will write him a second
deliverer.

" But, aside from what he has done, his personal
character has drawn the people to him as by the
most powerful magnets. No public man who enters
the arena of politics is able entirely to escape abuse.
' Woe unto you when all men speak well of you,'
rarely, if ever, falls on the head of a political leader.
Mr. Lincoln has not escaped ; but who ever heard a
breath against his absolute and perfect honesty ? This
is the foreground of his entire character ; the clear,
pure light in which the whole world sees him ; the
foundation of the perfect and unwavering trust which
all his countrymen reposed in him. His native and
striking shrewdness, his practical tact, his alertness
x)f intellect, his keen ingenuity, his remarkable reti-
cence, despite his great freedom of speech, were all
dominated by his noble honesty. The nation was
sure that his mistakes, if he made any, would be of
the head, not of the heart.

" Nor was this noble and incorruptible honesty
merely a Roman virtue, a mere barbed justice
wrought in iron, like that of another Cato or Brutus.
It was justice, but it was beautifully yoked with mercy.
His heart was soft as that of a maiden, and simple as
that of a child. It may have been a fault in him that
he allowed so few deserters and other capital offenders
to suffer the death penalty ; that so few men served
out their whole time in prison. The tears of the

MEMOIR OF B. II. NADAL, D.D. 6j

widow, and the wife, and the mother, fairly sealed him
into compliance with merciful petitions. A friend
of mine went to him to beg the life of a deserter.
For reasons of great weight he refused ; but when
he came to speak of the execution of these unhappy
men, he broke down under the pressure of his feel-
ings. ' Friday,' said he, as the great tears rolled
down his face, ' Friday, the day of execution for de-
serters in the army, is my worst day.'

"And again, on another occasion, when some friends
of mine who had been unjustly convicted of a political
offense, and who had been pardoned by him, visited
the White House to give him thanks, they found him
quite embarrassed. He blushed on receiving their
acknowledgments, as a modest young woman might
have done, and could hardly speak for his emotions,
' Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'
The man, in Mr. Lincoln's case, lived in the ruler ;
pomp and power did not freeze the genial current of
his soul.

" But with all this mercy and kindness, with all the
natural and unrestrained simplicity which marked
him, with all his ready yielding to his emotions, he was
as far as possible from every thing rash or indiscreet.
He could hear and feel, and yet withhold the sought,
for favor. Indeed, he was remarkable for the appar-
ently opposite virtues of emotional tenderness and
the utmost prudence. In great matters, whatever
may have been his feelings, his step was deliberate
and cautious ; he could hear all sides, and commit
himself to none ; he could be impressed by all, influ-
enced by all, and yet the control of each over him
would be so small and so nicely adjusted that the

68 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

result seemed to be his own, and was, however he
may have been aided in reaching it.

" Sorting exactly with the rest of his character was
the entire and singular freedom from all vindictive-
ness. No opposition threw him off his balance. Not
only was he ever generous toward his loyal opponents,
showing by his treatment of them that he remem-
bered nothing against them, appointing them to the
highest offices and the loftiest honors ; he went beyond
this ; he never uttered a bitter word even against the
enemies of his country. He pursued his end in con-
quering them and bringing them back to their alle-
giance by every lawful means, but he never seemed
to feel that there was any personal quarrel between
himself and even the leaders of the rebellion. The
keenest eye and the most thorough search will
labor in vain to find a spiteful or angry utterance
in any of his messages, speeches, letters, or known
conversations.

" In this war the Union side has not hated its ene-
mies ; it has not returned gall for gall, abuse for
abuse ; and we doubt not that this difference is largely
attributable to the example of the late President. His
noble good nature, his entire freedom from hate or
revenge, not only represented, but in part created,
a similar spirit in the nation. ^His great form cast
its shadow over the whole country. Wherever his
picture went it stood for genial charity ; it clothed
itself in the attributes of the man himself, and from a
million of walls and of soldiers' tents it gave its silent
rebuke to vindictiveness, until the nation learned to
conduct war with judicial coolness. He will live in
our memories down to the latest days of life as a

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 69

model of elevation above personal rancor, as an ex-
ample of magnanimity toward opponents, and divinest
charity toward enemies.

" One of the things which brought him nearest the
great body of the people was the very thing that
perhaps repelled the smaller number. He utterly
despised the small conventionalities of society. He
was truly polite, but not after the Chesterfield fashion.
In his rude early home in the great West, God was
forming a gentleman in oak, moss-grown, indeed, and
rugged, but still grand. Born one of the people, he
grew up one of them, and remained one of them, de-
spite two elections to the highest position in the nation
and in the face of all the splendor of his career in the
most wonderful historic period. Nothing modified
him at this point, and his plainness of speech, his
homely illustrations, whatever they were to others,
were grateful to the honest million, and won and held
them. That peculiar popular life which he inherited,
which took no courtly tinge from early school associ-
ations, which owed nothing to academies, became the
fixed form of his outward manhood ; and when, late
in life, his noble intellect developed itself, he was still
only one of the people, though in him was the soul of
a sage and of a statesman. And when he came to
speak and to act publicly, the people claimed and
appreciated him ; they honored him, delighted in
him, loved him ; and to-day every poor man that
loves the nation bows his head and his soul in
deep grief for Abraham Lincoln, for a President
whom he understood. He feels that it had been
better that the swift bullet of the battle-field should
have struck down his own first-born, than that the

70 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

tragedy of Friday night should have occurred. It
we mistake not, this has been the wish and the lan-
guage of thousands of fathers throughout the length
and breadth of the loyal States.

" We have not aimed in this rapid and partial sketch
to set forth the character of the late President in its
intellectual aspects. This is not the time to weigh
and estimate his great qualities of mind, his skill and
power as the chief executive officer of the nation ; it
is not the time to measure and test his policies. The
earth has not yet received his noble and honored
form ; death is yet too fresh for that. We are still
quivering and staggering under the blow which has
bereaved us. We mean only a moral treatment, a
tribute of affection and sorrow, waiting for a broader
and more exhaustive and more critical view at some
future and cooler moment, when the nation and
ourselves shall see through another medium than our
tears.

" The sorrow which has come upon us is rendered
peculiar and more overwhelming by the hour in which
it falls. The end of the Rebellion loomed up before
us, seemingly only a few short days ahead. Rich-
mond had fallen ; Lee, the military leader and hope
of our enemies, had surrendered — himself and his
whole army. Virginia no longer contained an organ-
ized Confederate force ; mercy and generosity had
marked the President's and Lieutenant-General's
course in the treatment of the fallen foe ; the whole
loyal territory was ablaze with one universal illumi-
nation. Richmond was full of the praise of our
troops for their orderly behavior ; the voice of the
turtle began to be listened for ; men fancied they

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. J\

heard the note of peace, not merely in their dreams,
but in their sober waking moments ; the glorious
issue only waited for the crown to be put upon it.

"Just then — when the President was so happy; when
we were all so happy in him ; when even his enemies
were yielding to the power of his character, and were
beginning to understand and honor him — just then
fell the dreadful doom which has almost broken our
hearts. From exultation to weeping ! from bonfires,
illuminations, and flags flapping joyously in the winds,
down to the garb of mourning — to darkness in our
dwellings, to flags at half-mast, deeply draped in
black ! O, how are the mighty fallen ! From joy to
sorrow ! from the pipe, and the harp, and the tabret,
to the muffled drum, and the dead-march, and the
sorrowful toll of the church bells ! What shall we
do ? Whither shall we look ? Where shall we turn ?
God has sore smitten us !

" For myself, I loved Mr. Lincoln as a father. He
came from the people, whence I came myself. I had
the honor of a number of interviews with him ; I saw
him last, a week ago, at City Point, looking as though
he had almost renewed his youth ; I saw him step
from his steam-tug, and go forth in the fresh and
balmy breath of a sweet spring morning. As he then
appeared, he shall ever live in my memory. That shall
be my best photograph of him, The murderer can-
not take that away. It is a part of me.

" I know not how you feel, but I feel that my own
loss is irreparable. I had honored other Presidents,
but I had never loved one before. As I go through
my house I find myself continually, and even audibly,
inquiring, What shall we do ? What shall I do ? I

/2 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

can turn to the new President with respect and hope.
I fully believe the nation will be safe in his honest
and loyal hands. I will pray for him ; but still God
has taken away our father — the second father of his
country."

VII.

HIS CHRISTIAN LIFE.

No special allusion has been made to Dr. Nadal's re-
ligious life, not because it was not the most important
element in his history, and the foundation of all his
graces and acquirements, but because it can be more
conveniently presented as a separate topic. He held
in theory that Christ is an all-sufficient Saviour, and
he trusted in him implicitly. He enjoyed heartfelt
communion with God through his Son Jesus Christ.
He had been thoroughly converted, and his life and
writings attest the deep spiritual influence which per-
vaded and animated him. He lived in the atmos-
phere of Christian love, and he desired above every
thing else to be a true child of God. His inner life,
as revealed in his letters, shows an earnest desire to
be and to do all the Lord would have him to be and
to do. His first thought on entering a charge was
that 'his stay in it might be made a means of religious
edification to all the people. Soon after arriving at
one of his most important fields of labor, and before
his family had moved, he wrote to Mrs. Nadal : " I
like Sands-street hugely, and so will you when we get
home and we get to going about. I sincerely hope
we will have a glorious revival of religion, and that
many souls will be added to the Church." He desired
only that God should be glorified and the Church

MEMOIR OF B. II. NADAL, D.D. 73

advanced through him. In a letter to a dear friend
who was in affliction, and who had written to him, he
said : "I am happy to hear that you attribute this
affliction to the Providence of God. Yes, let it drive
you to the blood that makes the wounded whole.
Get more religion, pray and read your Bible much, and
don't be satisfied without an evidence of your accept-
ance. You say you are alarmed at your apathy to
your interests, and fear that 'nothing short of the
cold grasp of death will arouse you to action on this
subject.' I trust, however, you are now awake, fully
awake ! O, look to God ! look, look through Jesus
Christ ! I pray that God may bless you in body and
restore your health, bless you in soul and give you
the fullness of the blessing of the Gospel of Christ."
Again he wrote to the same person : " Look to the
Lord for more religion ; pray without ceasing for the
witness of the Spirit. O, that the Lord may sanctify you
wholly ! " His Christianity manifested itself in large
charity toward those who differed from him, and also
toward those who had wronged him. He cordially
indorsed the good that was in others, never depreci-
ating the valuable qualities which they possessed. In
one of his letters to a friend he thus spoke of a
brother from whom he had been estranged for some
time, contrary to his wishes: "Just as I was coming

down from the pulpit I met Brother full in the

face. He smiled and I smiled. He spoke and I spoke.
We shook hands most cordially. I told him I was
glad it had taken place at last, that I had once sent
him word that I would like to be friendly with him
if it pleased him. He answered that he had never
received the word ; so we parted. We must forget

74 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

and forgive. We must learn to pray heartily for those
who have wronged us most, that we maybe the children
of our Father who is in heaven. O, the importance of
being all for God and full of religion ! I feel for you in
this respect, and I feel for myself also. Pray without
ceasing ; read your Bible ; look to God for an evidence
of your acceptance. Live in God ; hang upon God ;
draw your enjoyment from God. Let ' Christ be all
in all.' Go to your knees with the determination
never to rise until conviction thrills through your
whole soul that you are born of God. But be sure
to look entirely to Christ. Look to his precious
blood. Look to his cross. Take him as your
riches, your fullness, your all — your sufficient, present
Saviour."

It was in the light of religion also that he decided
on the kind of work in which he should engage. He
left his Professorship in Greencastle, Indiana, for
the Presiding Eldership, and while he was eminently
successful in this new line of labor he yet frequently
longed for literary labor in connection with our insti-
tutions of learning, for which he was so eminently
fitted both by education and inclination. He was
troubled very much about this time with sore throat,
which led him to think whether Providence was not
in this manner directing to the work of instruction as
his most appropriate field of usefulness. In a letter to
Mrs. Nadal in 1857, after speaking of his troubles
with his throat, he adds : " I have just been praying as
earnestly as I could to our heavenly Father for divine
direction. He knows that I would rather do right,
if I could only know what it is, than to have all the
world. O, my Father in heaven, direct me ! "

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 7$

His Christianity was of the sympathetic kind which
delights in warm, earnest meetings. He loved the
means of grace as furnished' in connection with
Methodism, and enjoyed in them rich spiritual feasts
for his soul. He loved the old songs of Zion, and
listened with delight to the warm expressions of the
servants of Christ, and any who might look at him
could see that he was drawing water from the wells
of salvation, and that his soul was full to overflow-
ing. His religious influence as a professor was very
marked. It was at that time, and is still, the custom
in Drew Theological Seminary to have a prayer-
meeting composed of the Faculty and students, and
any others who may choose to attend, in the chapel
on Wednesday morning. At this meeting he was
always present, and his remarks and exercises were
instructive and inspiring. He had great facility in
pouring out his soul before the Lord, and in making
a few observations during a meeting he was remark-
ably successful. All who participated in those meet-
ings will remember the instructions which were then
given by him, and the simple-hearted piety which he
exhibited. Often were all present melted by his
prayers and by his relations of experience, and his
heart in turn was moved and his eyes suffused with
tears at the testimonies of his brethren as to what
Christ had done for them.

He laid great stress upon the duty of preaching by
a sincere Christian life no less than in the pulpit. He
used to exhort the students that the' only way to lift
other lives upward to a high spiritual experience was
to enjoy that experience themselves. Regarding
example as better than precept, he believed that the

76 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

outward life could only impress others effectually for
Christ when it was the true expression of the spirit-
uality which reigned within. He grew in grace and in
the knowledge of Jesus Christ his Lord, as was appar-
ent to those who saw him day by day. As has been
exhibited in his letters, and as was shown in his life,
his constant aim was to become more and more con-
formed to the image of his divine Master. He ex-
pressed this longing of his heart, and his desire of
living for another world rather than for this, in a let-
ter to his wife, written from the Conference Room
while the Conference was in session, about three
years before his death : " But I will tell you about
the memorial services for those who have died dur-
ing the year. I felt deeply solemn. Death was
brought very near to my apprehensions, and I did
greatly long to be good, as well as to be better assured
of divine things. The gem of these services was the
presentation of wreaths called ' immortelles' by the
ladies of the Church. As the name of each deceased
minister was called from the roll a lady came forward
and presented one of the wreaths with the minister's
name in the center on a card, which was hung up
behind the pulpit in sight of the whole congregation.
Four such wreaths now hang up before me, a touch-
ing and tender appeal to all of us to live in view of
another world."

The Rev. D. P. Kidder, D.D., remembers with sat-
isfaction the impressions of Dr. Nadal's piety, which
he received many years ago. Dr. Kidder was then re-
turning from his missionary labors in South America.
It was about the year 1840, and it so happened that
he was for a few days a guest at the same house

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 77

with Dr. Nadal, who was then a young man and Pastor
in the City Station, Baltimore. About noon Dr. Nadal
excused himself from the company, saying that he
had an engagement at that hour which he must meet.
The lady at whose house they were staying after-
ward told Dr. Kidder that the engagement was one
of fulfilling a pledge which he had made to his people
to unite with them in prayer at that hour for God's
blessing upon the Church. It illustrates forcibly
both his own prayerfulness and the estimate which
he placed upon it in carrying forward his efforts to
save the people. It also affords an example worthy
of the imitation of all ministers of the Gospel, based
on the well-known principle that the best way to
secure the united efforts of God's people in promoting
his cause is to secure their united prayers at the
throne of the heavenly grace. Thus by his spiritual
life did he show forth the praises of Him who had called
him out of darkness into his own marvelous light, as
by his intellectual labors he manifested the goodness
of God who had so richly endowed him.

His religion tinged all the habits of life as well as
his duties. He invoked the divine blessing in all the
details of every-day life, and he regarded all faults,
however small, as worthy of prompt attention and
correction.

The following resolutions, found in his diary, sup-
posed to have been written about 1865, show the
practical character of his mind, as well as his ear-
nestness in improvement :

" I promise, God helping me, the following, namely :

" 1. To do my best not to lose my temper.

" 2. Not to smoke.

7 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

" 3. To eat nothing for supper beyond bread and
butter.

"4. To try to be in bed before eleven o'clock.

" 5. To visit more diligently. B. H. N.

" I further promise, by the help of God through
Christ, never to speak favorably of myself, except to
my most intimate friends, and sparingly even to them.

"B. H. N."

How this simple record, intended for no eye but
his own, reveals his character ! These resolutions,
unpretending as they are, show a soul grasping after the
loftiest ideals of living. We are reminded of Presi-
dent Edwards's rules of life, which, though of the sim-
plest kind, tell better than direct expressions the
struggles of a great mind toward a life without even
the smallest blot. As Edwards had his cup, by which
he measured the amount of nourishment which he
needed at one time, so Nadal would restrict diet to
that which would give strength of body and vigor of
intellect with which to do God's great work.

VIII.

AT HOME.

Whatever may have been his successes, as preacher,
professor, or writer, they call not back to those who
knew him well such pleasant memories as are con-
nected with his home life. At home he was the
embodiment of the most complete combination of
all those beautiful traits which make it almost a par-
adise. He was not merely the father of the family,
providing for its temporal welfare, but he was the
companion, the guide, the friend, the brother, to every

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 79

member of that little circle. His home was his
kingdom, which he ruled with the rod of love ; it
was his garden, which he watched with the most
anxious solicitude, lest any plant or flower might suffer
injury or be obstructed in its growth ; it was his
resort for pleasure, where, in the bosom of his family
and in the midst of his friends, he could throw aside
anxious thought and care, and mingle in all those
little enjoyments which make life so pleasant ; it
was his sanctuary for prayer, where he, as the head
of the family, officiated as priest, calling down bless-
ings upon all his dear ones, so that his house might
be like that of Obed-Edom, in which the ark rested.
His wife and children were his treasures, in com-
parison with which all earthly wealth was of no value,
and for their comfort, improvement, and usefulness
no sacrifices which he could make were too great.
His interest in them was not that which is satisfied
with the temporal well-being of his family, but his
deepest concern was for their spiritual prosperity.
He was impressed very much with the importance
of the- Christian training of his children. As early
as August, 1849, ne thus writes to Mrs. Nadal : " My
mind has been a good deal engaged of late with the
subject of Christian nurture — a subject whose impor-
tance I have been feeling occasionally ever since I
have been a parent, but which has taken a much
stronger hold upon me since I read the book of Bush-
nell upon it." In another letter during the same
year he says : "Take care of our children ; remember
they are Christians, must be regarded as such, and
taught to regard themselves as such." Here is the
germ of those views on that subject which he after-

80 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

ward held, and on which was based his article on " In-
fant Church Membership," which appeared in " The
Methodist Quarterly Review" soon after his death.

His was a home of clieerfulness. If now and then
a cloud appeared, it obscured the light only for a
short season, when the sun would shine again with
more than usual brilliancy. In Ecclesiastes it is
written, " Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant
thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun ; " so also the
light which beams from the heart of a loving husband
and father upon a home circle is one of the most
beautiful objects upon which it is possible to gaze. It
imparts contentment and peace and cheer such as
can be found nowhere else. This was emphatically
true in the home of Dr. Nadal. No austerity marked
his intercourse with his wife and children. The bond
which united all together was so tender and gentle that
all restraints were taken away except those imposed by
propriety and Christianity. The children knew that
their father sympathized with them in their enjoy-
ments as well as in their sorrows, and that what
pleased them, so long as it was right and for their
good, would also be pleasing to him. Hence to a
stranger entering his abode the sun seemed to
shine all the time, and he became a party to the
general happiness, and felt at home in a sense in
which a stranger can feel at home in but few
places.

But no home, however beautiful, can prevent the
intrusion of sadness, and no cheerfulness can bar
the entrance sometimes of the deepest griefs. Such
an occasion for grief came in the death of his
little daughter Lizzie. It turned for a season the

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, I).D. 8 1

general happiness of the whole family into gloom.
It is not proper to unvail the season of tribulation !
Dr. Nadal poured forth the depth of his heart's
sorrow and the wealth of his affection in the fol-
lowing language, which we transcribe. It must have
been written purely to relieve his own heart and
that of his sorrowing wife, for it was never pub-
lished. This beautiful tribute to their little daughter,
who had been taken away from them, will find a
response in many other families where the deaths
of little ones have left vacancies which earth can
never fill :

" Our Little Lizzie.

" She bloomed like the loveliest rose, or rather shone
like an angel in our little circle for seventeen months,
and then her kindred in the skies came for her and
took her home. We were spending the summer
amid the magnificent scenery of Western Virginia,
where the feeble, the weary, the business-oppressed,
and the worshipers of fashion, from the Atlantic cities
and the torrid South, seek in the shade of the great
mountains a refreshing retreat, and in the virtues of
the numberless mineral springs remedies for the
various ills to which flesh is heir. For several years
we had been shut up, summer and winter, in the
thronged and compacted city, and were charmed with
the thought of our children having room and air and
shade without stint ; we could already see them in our
fancy — their cheeks protruding with exuberant health,
their eves emulating the bright stars, their rounded
forms, instinct with glad, joyous life, and restless
from mere excess of animal spirits — practicing their

6

82 THE NEW LIFE DA WNIXO.

ground and loft}7 tumbling on the thick blue-grass,
while tree, hill, and village echoed back their merry
peals of laughter. It had not entered our thoughts
that death could follow us into our mountain recesses
and enter with us the very vales and bowers of health ;
that he could sit down with us at the far-famed
fountains of health, where thousands are imbibing new
vigor with every draught. But death is in the country
as well as in the city, in the solitude of the mountain
as well as in the confused and noisy crowd. So we
found it.

" I shall never forget that sad letter : it came to
me at the ' Healing Springs,' about fifty miles from
where my family was staying ; it reached me on Satur-
day evening, and informed me as cautiously as pos-
sible of the extreme and dangerous illness of our child.
I felt sure it must be in great danger; the letter had
been written with a trembling hand, and the mother
and wife never would have consented to recall me
from my pursuit of health if the danger had not been
imminent. The conviction seized me at once that mv
darling would not live — and yet I am glad to remem-
ber that I felt no rebellion rising up in my heart!
On the contrary, I felt that there were reasons, abun-
dant reasons, in me to call for just such a chastise-
ment. My head fell on my bosom in submission and
in grief, and my heart bled in unresisting silence.

" The next day, Sunday though it was, I took the
stage as early as possible, to see my little darling
before she died. And O, what a blending of dis-
cordant experiences was here ! The stage was
crowded with such people as usually travel on the
Sabbath — drunken, profane, uproarious, and mocking

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 8$

at religion by singing in their merriment snatches of
our hymns. The songs of Zion are suited to the
Lord's day, and many of them are especially adapted
to comfort a heart about to suffer bereavement ; but
how must such a heart feel its own anguish deepened
and intensified to hear them chanted by bloated,
slavering bacchanals as a part of their sabbatic orgies !
I took shelter from this desecration of all that is sacred
in religion and human sorrow on the top of the coach,
where I found only one of the profane crew.

"At twelve o'clock that night, as I approached
the house where my darling lay, my heart rising and
sinking with the alternations of hope and fear, I met
the doctor ; to my brief inquiry he replied, ' Lizzie
is barely alive.' Then I met my broken-hearted
wife, and then — I looked upon my beautiful child,
that two weeks before I had left strong and well,
her face all glittering with smiles, and her fairy hands
waving her sweet good-bye. She was lying in her crib
all unconscious, her face upturned, her eyes open,
seeming to look and yet appearing not to see any
thing ; her expression was one of half-conscious, half-
defined pain. It was plain that the doctor and the
family had reached the last hope. There were
blisters on her beautiful temples and other parts of
her lovely person. She had noticed no one for several
days, and her last responses to the many efforts to
amuse her were given to her little brother, a remark-
ably quiet child of three years old, who during the
earlier part of her sickness hung continually about
her bed. They had spent many happy days together
in the nursery ; he was the leader, if not the inventor,
of her little pleasures, and his chief gratification

84 THE NE W LIFE HA WNING.

seemed to consist in seeing her pleased. And now
that he was deprived of her company by sickness he
seemed like a mateless bird; he hung about her crib
hour by hour, watching his opportunity to tempt her
to play, reaching her any thing he could get that he
thought might please her, and smoothing her little
hand with his, and kissing it, as if to say, ' Now, sister
Lizzie, I have given you all my pretty things, and
smoothed and kissed your little hand very often ;
wont you get up and play with me ? ' Her only
answers were to receive his offered gifts and languidly
let them fall, feebly to return the pressure of his
hand, and to meet his look of melting solicitude with
a smile that seemed like a momentary triumph of love
over pain. But this was all past when I arrived.

" Lizzie's symptoms became more favorable ; and
as we had determined to make our home in the West,
and my engagements there were pressing, it was
thought best I should start at once and prepare for
the family their new home. . . .

" A letter — what mean these dry geranium leaves ?
Ah ! alas ! it is only too, too plain — Lizzie is dead,
and these leaves are in some way or other related to
her person. The letter tells that these leaves were
placed in her hand while she lay on the marble slab
in the little parlor, and that they were taken out of it
only a few moments before the burial. . There are
two of these leaves, one for each of our little boys,
who, like their father, were so unhappy as not to be
present at our darling's death. Their mother says
they must take these leaves and put them in a book,
and that every clay they must look at them, think of
Lizzie, and try to meet her in heaven. But why did

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 85

not the wife and mother send the geranium leaves to
me ? Why, she tells me she has reserved for me
a beautiful rosebud which had lain on Lizzie's breast ;
and the absent rosebud and the present pressed and
withered leaves were things of more than talismanic
power. These leaves, especially, seemed to say :
1 Your child is indeed gone — gone from you, gone out
of the world ; we ourselves were held in her dead hand,
(more beautiful than the product of the highest art,
but as cold as the marble on which she lay — so cold
that we were chilled to a quicker death ;) we saw the
solemn company gather ; we trembled under the
voice of the preacher, and when they mournfully sang,

" The morning flowers display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,"

we and the rosebud were there to point the lesson to
be, like Lizzie, a tangible illustration of the imper-
manence of earthly beauty.' This letter tells me
that her beautiful frame was clothed for the grave in
the very dress she wore when we presented her to
God in baptism ; that they gave her body back to our
heavenly Father arrayed just as she was when we
dedicated both her soul and body to Him a short
time before. But, my dearest friend, before you had
robed her in that twice-consecrated earthly raiment
Jesus had decked her pure soul in the tine linen
pure and white, the righteousness of the saints who
dwell in the abodes of the blessed. A hundred
times, in the house of mourning, I had tried to put
myself in the place of bereaved parents — had tried
to imagine their feelings of loneliness and sorrow ;
now, alas ! the reality was upon me, and all the previ-

86 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

ous preparation from efforts of the imagination and
from mingling in such scenes, was not sufficient to
give me what the world calls philosophy.

" The same evening on which the letter arrived a
friend called to sympathize, and, thinking to comfort
me, he quoted the couplet,

1 But these new rising from the tomb
With luster brighter far shall shine.'

The feeling perhaps was wrong, but I felt all within
me suddenly revolt. ' No,' said I, ' no greater luster,
no brighter shining ! I wish to see her just as she ap-
peared while with us ; her own, hernative beauty is
dearer to me than any that could be given her.'
Since this utterance was made I have reflected upon
it somewhat, and am satisfied that the feeling at bot-
tom was true, though exaggerated by the intensity of
grief. It was the passionate and overstrained ex-
pression of the doctrine of the identity of man's body
throughout eternity, as also of the recognition of
friends in a future state — this last idea a felt want of
every well-balanced human soul.

" My darling Lizzie, how often and intensely I
have longed that thy pure spirit might be permitted
to commune with thy poor father's ! how it would
comfort his heart, still frequently visited with deep
grief for thy loss ! what a boon he would esteem it !
He never wished thee aught but good, all conceivable
good ; canst thou not in some way come near to him,
in some way speak to. him ? But I ought rather to
ask the Lord if he will not allow our little daughter
in heaven to come to us in the visions of the night
and commune with our thoughts, which would fain
be in heaven where she is. Sweet Lizzie, thou art

MEMOIR OF B. H. NABAL, B.B. 8y

in paradise ; thou hast seen those who will know thee
well; thou hast seen the Lamb in the midst of the
throne. As I listen I can almost hear thy little voice
swelling the anthems of glory, and as I look up my
streaming eyes seem plainly to see thee. Yes, a part
of myself is in heaven, a part of my family is safely
landed, whatever may become of those who remain."

Dr. Nadal s was a home of hospitality. None who
have ever crossed the threshold of his family will forget
the kindness and warmth with which they were greeted,
and the pleasantness of their stay. His greeting was
not the mere formality of receiving a friend. It was not
his tongue only which welcomed his guests, it was the
whole man. One could not help believing that to visit
him was to bestow a real favor upon him. Friends
received a welcome to the heart of the home, and not
merely to its entertainments and comforts. Friend-
ship was with him not the interchange of courtesies,
but the union of feeling and interest and affection.
Some of the sayings of Aristotle concerning friends
and friendship may fitly apply to Dr. Nadal and his
friends. Said the great philosopher at one time, " A
friend is one soul in two bodies ; " and at another
time, in reply to a question as to how we should
behave toward our friends, he said, " As we should
wish them to behave toward us." So close were the
ties which bound Dr. Nadal to his cherished friends,
that he was knit to them, heart to heart, like David
and Jonathan. His hospitality was proverbial among
those who knew him. No one could doubt the sin-
cerity with which his invitation to visit him was given.
At this point precious recollections rush upon the

88 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

heart of the writer. He remembers a friendship
begun with Dr. Nadal on his first arrival as a Profes-
sor in Drew Seminary, and which, notwithstanding
a disparity in years and in other circumstances, grew
into an intimacy which was only broken by his death.
The kindness with which this distinguished servant
of Christ honored him who pens this paragraph
will always be a green spot in his memory, and the
last words which Dr. Nadal addressed to him, so
characteristic of his genial, loving spirit, will never be
forgotten. In parting from him with a view of spend-
ing the vacation in travel, he said, "Whenever you
return come directly to my house ; remember, it is
your home. We always regard you as one of the
family." The next news from this dear friend was a
telegram announcing his death, and the next look
upon his loved countenance was as he lay in his coffin
on the day of his funeral.

" Friend after friend departs ;

Who has not lost a friend ?
There is no union here of hearts

That finds not here an end ;
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blessed."

IX.
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS AND DEATH.
Dr. Nadal was about five feet seven inches in height ;
though short, he was rather thick set, and very erect
and active in his bearing. His step was firm and
decided ; he carried himself well, and there was noth-
ing uncertain in his demeanor. His face was strong
and expressive. It could be stern at times, but was

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 8)

as a rule winning and pleasant. His eyes were bright,
and when his mood was a happy one they had a
warmth in them, a fireside glow, delightful to all that
came near him.

He had a great deal of magnetism, and his
geniality was contagious ; every body in his neigh-
borhood felt the influence of it. There was a com-
plete absence of the professional solemnities about
him. He liked kindness, and, of course, respect ; an
impertinent person would have found it hard to
take a liberty with him ; but he did not demand that
others, even the youngest, should defer to and agree
with him. When in the company of those who were
beneath him intellectually, or in any other way, his
superiority never seemed to occur to him. His cour-
tesy to all was equal, not from principle so much as
from instinct. He was impressible, and very sensi-
tive to other people's excellences, and fixed his atten-
tion rather upon the good than upon the weak or evil
in their characters. Carrying benevolence in his
heart, as he did for so many years, it was impossible
that it should not appear in his countenance and
behavior. He had great capacity for happiness, and
when his warm religious or poetic sensibilities had
been stirred, when he came in from some walk in the
woods or some meeting in the church, nothing could
check the flood of his kindness. Every body he met
was a happy accident to him ; none could resist the
magnetism of his love and light-heartedness.

Dr. Nadal was in the vigor of his manhood, with the
freshness of youth in his look and spirit when he was
called away. It was early summer — the grass was
green, the trees were covered with foliage, the flowers

90 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

were opening in beauty at the greeting of the sun,
the birds were singing their sweetest songs ; it was
the season when all the poetry of nature met a
response in the deep poetical sensibilities of his own
soul, when it pleased his heavenly Father to take him
to that beautiful world of which all the charming:
things of earth are but the faintest symbols and pre-
ludes, and toward which his thoughts, his labors, and
his aspirations had been so long tending. He had no
long sickness. Death found him ready, and took him,
with scarcely a notice that he was wanted, on the
other side of the river. His first complaining was
on the Thursday before his death, and so gentle was
the attack that only on the following Sunday was
there any serious apprehension on his own part or that
of his family that he could not recover. But a disease
of the kidneys which for years had been gradually
pervading his system had reached its culmination.
He sank into a stupor, became insensible to earthly
things a few hours before his death, and early on
Monday morning, June 20, 1870, he slept in Jesus.
The funeral services took place at the Methodist
Episcopal Church in Morristown, N. J., on the Wed-
nesday following, and were conducted by Bishop
Janes, Rev. Dr. Crooks, Rev. G. Haven, and others,
in the presence of a large concourse of friends, in-
cluding the Trustees of Drew Theological Seminary,
and the surviving members of the Faculty, excepting
Rev. Dr. Foster, who was in Europe. His remains
were interred in the cemetery at Morristown, N. J.,
but were afterward removed to Laurel Hill Cemetery,
Philadelphia, where his mortal remains now rest.
He is with God.

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 9 1

X.

EXPRESSIONS AND RESOLUTIONS OF APPRECIA-
TION AND SYMPATHY.

Some of the expressions called forth by the death
of Dr. Nadal are here given, showing the high regard
in which he was held.

The Christian Advocate.

Dr. Curry, who was President of Indiana Asbury
University at the time of Dr. Nadal's connection with
it, closed an editorial on his death in these words :

In the Asbury University we found him an able Professor in his
department, and at the Drew Theological Seminary his reputation
as an instructor was of a high order. His career is especially valu-
able as illustrative of what may be accomplished by diligent applica-
tion in spite of many disadvantages. In his death the Seminary and
the whole Church have suffered a real and not inconsiderable loss,
God is indeed dealing strangely with us in respect to the removal of
our active men from the prominent places of the Church. We would
bow most submissively to his providence, praying that, if it may be so,
the hand of the destroyer may now be stayed.

The Evening Post.
The following is a tribute from the secular press :

Dr. Nadal was one of the most eminent clergymen of the Meth-
odist Church, and had taken a conspicuous part not only in the affairs
of his denomination, but in many public questions. He was about
fifty-four years of age, was born on the Eastern Shore of Maryland,
joined the Baltimore Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church in
1835, and for a number of years preached in Maryland and in the Valley
and Piedmont region of Virginia.

He was there a courageous and able exponent of the antislavery
views which prevailed among Northern Methodists, and was a skilled
and well-known debater on this question. He married a Virginia

92 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

lady, and after preaching in Baltimore and other places accepted a
professorship in Asbury University in Indiana. Thence he returned to
the East after some years, and was stationed in Washington — where
he was for a session chaplain to Congress — and in Brooklyn, New-
Haven, and Philadelphia.

On the organization of the Drew Theological Seminary he was
selected for the Professorship of Church History, for which he was
admirably qualified by his studies, which were of wide range, espe-
cially in German literature.

Dr. Nadal was an eloquent and finished speaker, and a forcible
writer. He was one of the principal contributors to " The Meth-
odist," and wrote at different times for various periodicals. In his
own Church connection he was very much beloved and respected ;
and the Seminary and his Church loses in him a most valuable and
accomplished man.

The Trustees of the Drew Theological Seminary.

At a meeting of the Trustees of the Drew Theo-
logical Seminary, held at Madison, N. J., June 23,
1870, the following resolution was passed :

Resolved, That in the death of Rev. Dr. Nadal the Seminary
and the Church have sustained a very great loss, and that, occurring
so soon after the death of Dr. M'Clintock, we especially feel it to be
a most painful and mysterious dispensation of Divine Providence, to
which we bow with deepest grief. We tender to his surviving col-
leagues, and particularly to his bereaved family, our Christian sympa-
thies, in the full conviction that he has exchanged the toils and asso-
ciations of earth for the rest and companionship of heaven. We
desire to record our sense of his eminent abilities as a scholar, a
preacher, a writer, and a professor ; in all of which respects he has
made a marked impression on the students, and lefc them a brilliant
example.

Philadelphia Preachers' Meeting.

On Monday morning, June 20, 1870, the President
of the Philadelphia Preachers' Meeting read a tele-
gram to that body announcing the death of Rev. B.
H. Nadal, D.D., at Madison, N. J.

Dr. Carrow moved to appoint a committee to pre-

MEMOIR OF B. H. NADAL, D.D. 93

pare a suitable minute, which was adopted. Rev. Dr.
Carrow, Rev. Dr. Murphy, and Rev. Mr. Fernley,
Rev. Mr. Atwood, and Rev. Mr. Snyder were ap-
pointed such committee, and after due deliberation
presented the following paper, which was adopted by
a rising vote :

The Preachers' Meeting having heard with profound regret of the
sudden death of the Rev. B. H. Nadal, D.D., which sorrowful event
took place at six o'clock this morning, the 20th instant, at the Drew
Theological Seminary, Madison, N. J., of which institution he was
acting president, do direct the following minute to be entered upon
their journal, and a copy thereof to be forwarded to the bereaved
family, and furnished for publication in our Church papers.

Our departed brother was transferred from the Baltimore Con-
ference to the Trinity Church in this city about four years ago j
and, during his connection with that charge and with this body,
greatly endeared himself to us and to all with whom he came in
contact.

His intellectual endowments were of a very superior order, as
were also his moral qualities, his conscientiousness being one of his
strongest and most distinguishing characteristics. As a Christian, he
was remarkably pure and fervent in spirits, and beautifully consistent
and earnest in life. As a minister, he possessed extraordinary vigor,
variety, and compass of thought, and on the platform and in the pul-
pit was powerful and effective.

Since his removal from us to his responsible position at "Drew,"
we have regretted his absence from the pulpit of this city and from
our weekly meeting of Pastors, to which he was always welcome
from his eminently genial qualities, which made him the joy and de-
light of all who were favored with his company. We have rejoiced
from time to time to hear of his increasing usefulness, power, and
popularity as an educator of young men for the Christian ministry,
and acting president of the noble institution which had honored her-
self by his election to a professor's chair.

In the death of our beloved and honored brother the Church has
suffered a great loss, which, in addition to others which the Church
has recently sustained, renders our bereavement still more painful, and
most solemnly admonishes us to be constantly ready for our own
departure.

We further order the appointment of a committee of five breth-

94 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

ren, two of whom shall be laymen, to proceed to Madison and con-
vey the condolence of this meeting to the bereaved family, and render
whatever assistance they can in the funeral arrangements.

Trinity Methodist Episcopal Church, Philadelphia — Dr.
Nadal's Last Pastoral Charge.

The Quarterly Conference of Trinity Methodist
Episcopal Church, at a meeting held June 23, 1870,
ordered the following minute to be entered on its
journal :

The sudden demise of Rev. Bernard H. Nadal, D.D., Professor
of Historic Theology, and Acting President of Drew Theological
Seminary, late our beloved pastor, and at the time of his death still
a member of the Quarterly Conference, affects and deeply afflicts
our hearts.

We gratefully remember his manner of life and ministry among
us, his tender offices as pastor, friend, and adviser, his rapt elevation of
thought and eloquence as a preacher. He " allured to brighter worlds
and led the way." While his rare learning, varied reading, ripe
scholarship, and clear judgment, which so much profited us, will be
missed in the institutions and councils of the Church, yet he was
more especially endeared to us, his sometime children and fold, by
the affability and nobleness of his bearing, the pureness and sweet-
ness of his spirit, and the many rich graces which rounded his Chris-
tian character. The great and good are departing from among us :
Thomson! Kingsley! M'Clintock ! Nadal! "Our fathers, where
are they? and the prophets, do they live forever? "

To the bereaved widow and family we tender our sympathy and
condolence, and mingle with theirs our tears and prayers. May the
great Head of the Church tenderly sustain the widow and the orphan,
and be near us all in this our common sorrow and loneliness.

Minute of the Faculty of Drew Theological Seminary.

In view of the sudden death of their late beloved associate, Rev.
B. H. Nadal, D.D., the remaining members of the Faculty of Drew
Theological Seminary desire to recoi-d their high appreciation of him
as a Christian, as a scholar, and as a man.

Dr. Nadal was a member of the Faculty of the Seminary from the
commencement until his death, and always manifested the deepest
interest in its prosperity. A ripe scholar, he filled the chair of

MEMOIR OF B. H. 2TAJDAL, D.J). 95

Historical Theology with ability and success, and brought his richest
mental treasures for the benefit of the students, and was unwearied in
devotion to their welfare. A brilliant and effective writer, he wielded
his pen untiringly to advance the culture, religion, and patriotism of
his fellow-men — a devoted Christian, his heart was constantly awake
to the interests of the Church and the prosperity of the Redeemer's
kingdom. A thorough patriot, in the darkest hours of his country's
peril he manfully sustained the right. " He rests from his labors and
his works do follow him." We would emulate his bright example, and
from his sudden death be admonished to work more faithfully than
ever 's while it is called to-day, for the night cometh when no man
can work."

Such utterances from those who knew Dr. Nadal
well, together with the brief outline of his life given
in this volume, do not penetrate beyond the surface
of his career — that part of it which was exhibited before
men. The larger and the grander portion of his life, as
of all true lives, must forever remain unwritten, save
upon the hearts which he comforted and blessed, the
institutions which he helped to fashion and enlarge,
and the minds and characters to which he gave
direction and inspiration.

What he did for God and humanity is his best
eulogy. This will abide when the words of men
are forgotten. As the masterpieces of ancient art,
when scattered by the rude hand of time and by the
ruder hand of man, do not perish, but give inspira-
tion to high art in all climes whither they are car-
ried, so the fragments of a life consecrated to God,
like that of Dr. Nadal, although scattered here and
there, are not lost, but stimulate others to deeper
devotion to the Saviour's cause. What has been
said of him may pass away, but what he did will
long be fresh in many hearts, and in its influence
must abide forever.

g6 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

" He rests from his labors, and his works do follow
him." In the home of the ransomed, in the land of
the tearless and the pure, the eye of faith may see
him, seated near his Saviour, and amid the rapturous
joys of the eternal city the ear of faith may distin-
guish his voice, exclaiming, " By the grace of God
I am what I am." He served on earth, he reigns in
heaven.

DISCOURSES

DISCOURSES.

I.
THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord
is in this place ; and I knew it not, — Gen. xxviii, 16.

JACOB had been brought up in a family where the
fear of God was the controlling motive. And
although up to the time mentioned in the text he had
shown but little fruit of his religious education, yet the
germs were covered up unconsciously in his heart, and
were ready to sprout on the arrival of the earliest fitting
occasion. The dream of the glorious ladder between
heaven and earth now furnished such an occasion.
Jacob, perhaps, understood his own vision but imper-
fectly, yet it served to awaken in his mind the slum-
bering lessons of his home life ; it put his mind in a
religious frame, and called forth a vow that if God
would be with him in his journey, and bring him again
safely to his father's house, then the Lord should be
his God.

This dream, coming to Jacob in the loneliness of his
journey, stirred up within him, it would seem, a dim
spiritual consciousness, and became the beginning
of his religious life. It does not appear to have been
an awakening in any distinct or proper sense, or a
clear conviction of sin, much less a well-defined

I OO THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

dedication of himself to the divine service. He
seems rather to have been like a sick man whose
thoughts are turned toward religion by his affliction,
and who promises that if God will spare him he will
try and lead a different life. His submission does
not take place now — it is prospective ; it is to take
place when he is well. So it seems to have been
with Jacob : he is thrust out into the wilderness ;
his heart is sad ; he lies down on the cold earth at
night with a stone for his pillow, the sand for his
bed, the starry heavens for his coverlet ; forlorn and
desponding, he spends his sleeping hours among
visions of angels and spirits, and awakes deeply im-
pressed by his surroundings and condition. Under
this impression, he does not dedicate himself uncon-
ditionally to God, as he should have done, but prom-
ises that he will become a servant of the Lord if the
Lord will only return him safely to his father's house.

We mean to say that all we can find in the experi-
ence of Jacob in this case is, that a sense of the
supernatural was awakened within him. He had
come to think of something better than cheating his
brother Esau out of his birthright — birthrights and
messes of pottage for the time fell into the back-
ground, and spiritual and divine things came, how-
ever dimly, into play. His mind gave intimation of
a religious turn. The first dim pulse of a religious
life was now ready to strike.

And thus it is with almost all who become Chris-
tians. Distinct awakening is heralded by intimations
going before. Feelings, thoughts, drawings, long-
ings, interest in sacred things or in religious people,
are developed, unconsciously, for the most part, by

THE NEW LIFE DA WNING. IOI

those who experience them, and yet these turn out to
be the first motions of the religious life — the rising of
the vernal sap, preparatory to the buds of spring and
the fruits of autumn.

It is this dim dawn of the new life, these earlier
intimations of Christian experience, that shall be our
theme in this discourse.

These intimations of religion are sometimes given
very early in life, even in childhood. Indeed, we
think nothing can be more certain than that in dis-
tinctly Christian families children are religiously
impressed even before the dawn of consciousness.
We know that in other respects their education must
begin as soon as they enter the world. Every sight,
every voice, or even sound ; every touch, whether of
persons or of dead matter, must be developing, how-
ever dimly at first, their tender minds. And if this
process of training and impressing begins so early
with the young soul, considered as intellectual, why
should not the same be true of the moral and relig-
ious nature ? In the life of the nursery in a pious
family the religious element is full as distinct as any
other, and that element has as good a chance to enter
the child's soul as any other.

But still this dim far back part of the religious
experience, if we may so call it, will not come under
remark to-day, for the reason that it furnishes no in-
timations of its existence. It is the intimations of
the religious life with which we are to deal. We call
on you, first, to mark the dawn of the religious senti-
ment in children piously taught, as soon as they
are capable of something like regular thinking and
rational expression. Worldly people may see very

102 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

little in their nascent experiences, and we ourselves
may discover nothing of great dignity in them, but
still there is enough to indicate the young mind's
movement toward spiritual things.

Sometimes these intimations of religion in child-
hood appear struggling through clouds of odd, fan-
tastic skepticism. This conversation took place be-
tween a little girl and her father. The little girl had
been restless at prayers. " My daughter," said the
father, " you ought to close your eyes during prayers
and be quiet, and think of God ; he sees you all the
time." " No, pa," said the little girl in pretty broken
words, " God don't see me." " Yes, he does," said
the father. " How," continued the child, " can God
see me when I don't see him ? " And she looked all
around for God. The father fell back upon his au-
thority, and said, " I am your father ; I know better
than you do ; you must believe me." The little creature
mused, and looked around again, and, as if thinking
aloud, said in a low tone, " Well, then I suppose the
world is God." She was approaching the spiritual
over a rather difficult path.

But this childish skepticism is rather the exception
than the rule. The rule is uninquiring, boundless
faith. The other world and its angelic and saintly
inhabitants seem to be real, and to lie all about us.
When I had told a little boy of four years old about
Jesus blessing little children — that the Saviour had
been a little child himself, and how tenderly that
same Jesus loved little children now — he looked at me
very earnestly and said, " I love Jesus, and I want to
kiss him."

Who of us cannot remember spiritual moments in

THE NEW LIFE DAWNING. 1 03

the life of our childhood, when the future world came
down to earth and forced itself into our minds in a
way not to be resisted. I remember to this hour a
dream which I had when about seven years old. I
thought the day of judgment had come, and I fancied
that the scene of it was to be the common in front
of my home. I saw in my sleep the whole space
lighted up with what appeared to be immense bon-
fires, and the people were rushing to and fro in
strange terror. The fires, the rush, the terror, and
the idea of judgment made an impression on my mind
which all the friction of after years has not been suf-
ficient to erase. The judgment vision was the result
of my mother's teachings, penetrating and warming
into activity the religious nature within.

We hear in our social religious meetings much said
about the influence of pious parents. Many persons,
even with gray heads and failing frames, will bless
God for pious parents, and especially for godly
mothers. This means precisely what we are speak-
ing of, namely, that under the teachings of a pious
home early intimations of religion were given forth,
which might have led on at once to a definite relig-
ious experience, which have exerted their influence
since, and even now are recognized as part of our
Christian life, considered as a whole and in a wide
sense.

But we are inclined to-day to look at mature life.
Among the decided intimations of the religious life is
an interest in sacred truth. Not merely an interest
in Church service : that may be nothing more than a
love of music — the sweet music of the human voice
or of the organ. Not merely an interest in preach-

1 04 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

ing : that maybe only the result of admiration for the
preacher's ingenuity, his eloquence, or even his cleric-
al buffoonery. Not simply an interest in truth : that
is important, but all truth is not spiritual ; the nat-
uralist, the chemist, the mere metaphysician, are aim-
ing at truth, but not at religious truth. That which
intimates the approach of religious life is an interest
in religious truth — the truth relating to God and
heaven and the soul. When we feel ourselves drawn
to the truth of Scripture, irrespective of the form in
which it comes to us ; when we want to know what
it means ; when the interest is not merely sectarian,
nor merely critical — then something good is working
in us. The germ within, which a bad life is to kill,
or an earnest turning to Christianity is to develop
into a fair and fruitful growth, begins to stir, and to
give signs of possible or probable future budding.
Nicodemus, coming to our Saviour to converse with
him about sacred truth, showed a mind turned in the
right direction. The same was true of a certain
lawyer, who came to Jesus asking what was the first
great commandment. His share in the conversation
was such as to prove that he was not far from the
kingdom of heaven. The new life was already inti-
mating its coming — it was moving, it was starting.
He was interested in divine truth, and was showing
his interest.

Another way in which intimations of the religious
life are given is by the exhibition of interest in the
Church of God, of affection for the people of God.
A certain centurion, you will remember, sent for
Christ to come and heal his servant, and the Jews,
who were about the Saviour, pressed his suit for

THE NEW LIFE DA WNING. 105

him, saying that he was worthy for whom this deed
was to be done, for, though a heathen, the centurion
loved their nation and had built them a synagogue.
That was the proof he had given of his love toward
the chosen people — he had built a place of worship
for them. Even Herod, badly as his career ended, had
good impressions, seasons of seriousness, for we are
told that he heard John the Baptist gladly and did many
things that John told him. These intimations, no
doubt, stirred up hope for Herod in the bosom of
Christ's herald. And so now, wherever you see per-
sons loving the Church, and feeling it a privilege to aid
in its support ; where you see them attached to Chris-
tian people, as such, and loving their society instead
of being repelled by it — preferring the society of
Christians to that of others — there is some spiritual
good in them. They are treading ground adjacent to
the heavenly Jerusalem. They have the early dew of
Christian life, the early dawn of the Comforter's light.
If they will give divine grace a fair chance, these
intimations will become great and glorious spiritual
facts.

But flowing from this interest in sacred truth,
and in the Church of God, as a natural result, is dis-
satisfaction with the world as the source of our
enjoyments. The sacred truth, in which the soul
has become interested, has poured its light, however
silently, upon the old world, and brought another
world to view, alongside of which the old world of
gewgaws and temporalities appears in the highest
degree mean, flimsy, and painted. It is said that
when the peacock is spreading his gorgeous tail and
strutting in the sun, as if ready to burst with his

1 06 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

vanity, if he happens to look down at his awkward,
ugly, rusty feet he becomes ashamed, his strut ceases,
and his outspread plumage drops at once. Such
is the effect of divine truth when it shines upon the
world. That world, before so fair, so fairy-like, so
gorgeous, so bright, so wonderfully dazzling and at-
tractive— with all its money, with all its honor, with
all its glory — shows itself to be nothing better than a
dressed corpse, as disgusting to the view as it is use-
less to bring us relief. It is a mere peacock, whose
gay feathers are a false badge, and whose ugly feet are
its true index. Another Morgana is it, with his splen-
did vail, which, once dropped, reveals deformity, to
fill the soul with disgust. And in the light of this
divine truth the soul asks the question : " What shall
it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and in the
end lose his own soul ? What is such a world good
for ? How can we get real, deep, lasting happiness
out of it ? How can dry, hard matter, or fashion,
or any earthly polish, or culture, or any thing merely
earthly, fill the capacity for spiritual life ? "

Still another intimation of spiritual life is when we
discover that the cause and fault of our not being
happy is not found wholly in the world, or in any
thing outside of ourselves, but most of all in our-
selves. While the world looks bright, and every
thing around promises to be fine and pleasant, we
are not so apt to suspect that there is any thing the
matter with ourselves. But when we are undeceived
in regard to the world, when under holy light it drops
its vail, and we fall back on our own resources for
happiness, we find we have been cheated at home as
well as abroad — in as well as out of ourselves. We

THE NEW LIFE DAWNING-. 1 07

soon find that our happiness is far from being under
our own control ; that a few nights of wakefulness, a
heavy pecuniary loss, a bereavement, an attack of ill-
ness, puts our enjoyment beyond the reach of our-
selves and of any earthly help. Among the first dawn-
ings which preceded my own more distinct Christian
life I reckon almost a week in which I did not, to my
knowledge, sleep one minute. I was in perfect health ;
no adverse occurrence had taken place ; I simply could
not sleep. Why, I could not tell ; but so it was. I
lay all night, and night after night, and counted back-
ward and forward ; I recited poetry ; I shut my eyes
as with a mad clench and tried to exclude every
thought, and to bring into my mind dark, blank va-
cancy ; I got up at midnight and wandered, through
the streets, and when weary set me down on step or
cellar door, or embraced and leaned myself against a
post, but no sleep ; sleep, as the poet has it, seemed
to have been murdered, and there was no calling it
back again to life. Then, in those long, half-angry,
sleepless nights the feeling very dimly stole over
me that I was at best but a poor helpless creature,
bankrupt as to all the means of controlling my own
enjoyments, and that self, like the world, was a poor
thing. Now, whenever this sense of human weak-
ness takes possession of us, the way is preparing for
Christ and his Gospel.

A still stronger intimation of the divine life is
when the mind begins to turn itself in thought to-
ward the great God. The Bible tells us of certain per-
sons who have not God in all their thoughts. Is not
this a just description of almost all unregenerate and
impenitent persons ? How little and seldom they

1 08 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

think of their Creator. The injunction, " Remember
now thy Creator in the days of thy youth," is another
hint how prone we are to forget God. " Out of
sight, out of mind," holds especially of our heavenly
Father. Philosophers forget God, except as a met-
aphysical abstraction ; judges and rulers forget
him, except as a piece of machinery with which to
hold in awe the people ; merchants and mechanics
and others forget him, except when they recall his
name in their oaths. The Germans, as a nation — even
the professedly pious among them — think so little
about God that they use his name on the most trivial
occasions as a mere expletive, and the French do
the same almost constantly. Those who thus use
the name of God the most think of him the least.
One serious thought about him would make us
tremble to think of naming him lightly. How finely
Cowper has taken off this thoughtless use of the
divine name :

" A Persian, humble servant of the sun,
Who though devout yet bigotry had none,
Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address,
With adjurations every word impress,
Supposed the man a bishop, or at least- -
God's name so oft upon his lips — a priest ;
Bowed at the close with all his pious airs,
And craved an interest in his fervent prayers."

I call on those of my audience to-day who are
wholly neglectful of religion just for one moment to
study how little they think about God. It is amaz-
ing. He is never, never in your minds. And, my
brethren, when a soul begins habitually to think of
God and the spiritual world — when God comes before
the mind, and we think of his infinity, his power, all

THE NE W LIFE DA WIVING. 1 09

his attributes frequently — we are beginning the proc-
ess that may lead us to him.

Yet another instance : We hear, among men of the
world, a great deal said about right and wrong,. good
and bad, vice and virtue ; but how seldom we hear
the muse the words sin and righteousness. Vice and
virtue, right and wrong, good and bad, tell only, or
mainly, of human judgments respecting human con-
duct. Sin and righteousness, on the contrary, are
religious words, and whenever people begin to view
life through the medium of the ideas expressed by
these words a change is taking place. Those who
use these words reverently as the expression of their
feelings are moving, however slowly and uncon-
sciously, toward religion. Their minds have taken a
new drift, and they have only to remain in this current
to come to the right and safe haven.

Last of all, when people begin to come to close
quarters ; when they put themselves with serious
forethought or from spontaneous choice in the Sun-
day-school, whether as pupils in Bible classes, or as
officers and teachers of the school ; when they begin
to attend prayer-meetings and other social religious
assemblies ; when they begin to make a habit of read-
ing the Scriptures regularly and thoughtfully, and
not from curiosity, nor to prepare themselves for con-
troversy, we may have hope — the intimations of the
religious life are thickening.

What, now, are the several points we have made ?
We have shown that in pious homes, in quite early
childhood, we are frequently brought into thoughtful
contact with the spiritual world — even then intima-
tions are given of the new life ; that later, we see

I I O THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

intimations, dawnings of light and grace in the soul,
in the form of interest in sacred truth, the truth
of Holy Scripture. We have said that such intima-
tions also are sometimes given in attachment to the
Church, or by a clear and painful discovery of the
emptiness and poverty of the present world, when the
sacred truth shines on it and on our hearts. Such
intimations are given, too, by a discovery that the
source of true satisfaction is no more in ourselves
than in the world — that both are devoid of power fully
to bless ; by the fact that persons begin to regard
right and wrong not merely as vice and virtue, but
to think of them as sin and righteousness ; by the
fact that men begin to think habitually and frequently
of God, so that they will only speak of him rever-
ently ; and, finally, by the fact of persons coming to
closer quarters with religion — entering, for instance,
the Sabbath-school, attending prayer-meetings, and
thoughtfully and regularly reading the Scriptures.
Any of these, it seems to us, are spiritual intimations ;
like the notes of the cuckoo, that tell of the coming
spring. They are sprouts of grace, when we see
which we may say, Yet four months, or perhaps four
years, or possibly only four weeks, and then cometh —
harvest.

If I have described the experience of any who are
present, let them rejoice that the soil of their life is
not wholly barren ; that the good seed is at least under
the sod, and that the ground promises to be vigorous
enough to sprout it. But let us not overvalue these
intimations. Let us remember that one swallow
does not make a summer, nor one stalk of wheat a
harvest, nor one drop of rain a shower, nor yet one

THE NEW LIFE DA WNING. 1 1 1

gracious motion of the soul regeneration. Far, very,
very far from it. Not every man who gives early
intimations of genius really becomes a genius — not
one in a thousand. Not every business man who
starts fairly, and whose early course augurs well for
success, really wins in the doubtful play of life. A
ship may be grandly built and fitted and freighted ;
there are intimations that she will go, and yet she
must start, or she will rot at the wharf. And, in
relation to divine things, to the spiritual life, we read
of one who began to build and was not able to fin-
ish ; of Herod, who gave signs of life, but was dead ;
of Felix, who trembled, and forgot it ; of Agrippa, who
was once almost persuaded, but never quite ; of
Simon Magus, who believed, and even was baptized,
but loved lucre too well ; of Balaam, who prophesied,
and yet loved the wages of unrighteousness, and fell
by it ; of Judas, who was called to be an apostle, and
yet sold his Master for a few paltry pieces of silver ;
and of a rich and virtuous young ruler, who knelt to
Christ and sought his counsel, but rejected it when
given. Most of these were clearly marked cases of
religious impression, and yet they were as the morn-
ing cloud and the early dew ; they came to nothing,
and they show that these intimations are nothing,
and worse than nothing, unless they are followed by
a distinct rising up and coming to Christ.

If any of you, my friends, are conscious of having
in you such intimations of the life divine, how impor-
tant that you look well to them, and see that they
are improved ! For if you have nothing more than
these, you may come to Church until the knell of
the last day, and your life will be nothing more than

1 1 2 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

a tiny seed that perishes in sprouting. It was a
genuine seed ; there came upon it out of the spiritual
sky a measure of moisture and warmth ; the shell
gave way to let forth the tiny sprout ; but the granite
and rubbish of the world was thrown on it ; you per-
mitted it to be so, and it perished. The thorns
sprang up and choked it, or it perished, for lack of
soil, under the sun. Seize, I beseech you, seize this
fleeting moment to fan the spark into aflame, to turn
the intimation into a heart-revelation, the dim and
microscopic bud of thought and feeling into fair
flower and luscious, holv fruit. Has God indeed
intimated the divine presence in you ? then come to
his Son, who is the fullness and explanation of all
intimations, and the realization of all just religious
anticipations.

LINGERING AT THE GATES. 1 13

II.

LINGERING AT THE GATES.

And Elijah came unto all the people, and said, How long halt ye
between two opinions? if the Lord be God, follow him : but if Baal,
then follow him. — i Kings xviii, 21.

IF we follow the life of any Christian congregation
that has a history at all, we shall come upon several
classes of persons. We shall find that a part of the
people reared in it, or who have been brought into it,
after continuing awhile, have grown weary, or have been
enticed away by the world. They have left their
places in the Church vacant. To-day, while we wor-
ship here, we doubt not that many who have been
reared in this Church, and who were habitually
present in it for years, are found in the haunts of dis-
sipation ; while others are content to remain at home
in domestic enjoyment, or to spend their time in visits
and company. They received the grace of God in
vain, and to them the Church of God is as a worn-
out garment.

There is another class with whom the results have
been just the reverse. They have grown up in the
courts of the Lord's house, or, later in life, they have
been brought to it, and, having become identified with
its interests, are now pillars in the Lord's temple.

I 14 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

They witness for Christ before the world ; they will-
ingly bear the burdens of the Church, and are the
very people, in all the Churches, who, keep the cause
of Christ alive in the earth ; who, down at the very
heart of Christian civilization, work to maintain its
vitality. These are the men who fill the missionary
treasuries of the several denominations, who look up
the poor, who build churches and schools for them,
and show that they have at heart the salvation of the
souls of men. They hear the call of their Lord and
obey it.

There is, however, a third class, different from both
of these. They have neither deserted the sanctuary,
nor yet identified themselves with the people of God.
Without a profession of faith, they have still retained
their early attachment to the Church, are regular in
their attendance, and devout in their deportment at
her altars. If they are not the friends of God, they
are at least the friends of his friends ; ready to aid
them with their gold and silver, as well as to encour-
age them with their countenance in every religious
enterprise.

In every Christian congregation of tolerable size,
the minister can look forth and see quite a number
of these friendly persons. Indeed, he would as soon
expect his principal Church officers to be absent from
their seats as these outer-court worshipers, Yet,
attentive as this class of persons is, they do not even
profess to be Christians. Dwelling perpetually at
the very gates of Zion, there they halt, and decline
to enter.

This class is the object of our solicitude at this
time. We would address, and seek to interest and

LINGERING A T THE GA TES. 1 1 5

benefit, those who have been long in the habit of
attending Church service, and yet have not decided
to come out openly on the Lord's side.

The character of many of this class of persons is
most admirable. Before the world their lives are
well-nigh spotless. Many of them would be as much
shocked at profanity as the best of our Church-mem-
bers. In trade and social intercourse their word is
their bond. Indeed, we have known many persons of
this class whose moral and intellectual frame seemed
so admirably built, whose tempers were so nicely
balanced, that a habitual sweetness seemed ever to
sit on their countenances and to attract the good
toward them.

Nor is all this excellence of character, and correct-
ness of life, and attractiveness of appearance and con-
duct, without a deep and valuable reality of meaning.
What they are is, as far as it goes, a Christian result.
Their attachment to the Church has wrought itself
out in much that is amiable and good. They have in
many cases a real fondness for the Church, and a
real pleasure in attending upon her services. It is a
very poor explanation of all this to say that these
people " have got into the habit of attending
Church.'' A habit not only proceeds from the fre-
quent repetition of an act, but it implies pleasure,
as well as facility, in the performance of the act.
It is easy and pleasant for these people to come to
Church.

In some cases it is the pleasure of taste. They
are pleased with an eloquent speaker. They love
the roll of musical periods, the swell of rising passion,
even the flash of aesthetical and oratorical wrath, or

1 1 6 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

the tearful gush of a pathetic story ; they wait with
breathless anxiety the completion of the word-painted
landscape, and feel toward it as toward a fine picture
or a gorgeous sunset.

Nor is this wrong. The Creator has given the
fruitful imagination, the bright and variegated fancy,
the power of pictorial representation, and the pathetic
tone, that they may be used. Apollos was an elo-
quent man as well as mighty in theScriptures. Paul
has some most eloquent and poetic touches in his
epistles. David and the prophets abound in stately
allegories and burnished metaphors ; and the Gospel,
while it scorns all tawdry ornament, naturally in-
spires and cordially accepts all the forms of true
eloquence. When God vouchsafes eloquence in any
high degree to the preacher, saint and sinner may
both be gratified.

But beyond the mere pleasure of being excited by
the beautiful, the genuine Christian hearer receives
solid, golden treasures of Gospel truth. Not only is
his fancy entered, but his heart and conscience as
well. He rejoices, not merely in gorgeous displays
of mind, but that the Gospel has been made so at-
tractive, so beautiful. His feeling is not, How lovely
is this raiment ! but, How lovely the Gospel looks in.
it ! But people who cannot bear to hear the Gospel
except in connection with eloquence are not apt to
be constant at Church, and hence we must look for
something better in the hearts of those who regularly
attend Church through a series of years.

The regular attendants upon Church service, in
some cases, are partly held to a particular Church by
hallowed associations. Here came, in other and

LINGERING AT THE GATES. II 7

happier clays, those who were dearer than life to
them. Here, in these benches, they sat, and prayed,
and sang, and listened. To cease to come here seems
to them like forgetting their holiest ties. They come
here just as they visit the graves of their treasured
dead ; and as the graves make the spot where they
are precious, so does memory make this place.
These memories lend their aid to the service, and
yoke the holy dead not only with the spot, but with
the living in these seats who were once their com-
panions. We love to sit in the chairs and under the
trees where our friends that are dead once sat ; we
love to see and talk with those who knew and loved
them, and so even unconverted men love the Church
in which their friends worshiped, and the people
with whom they took sweet Christian counsel.

But beyond this, many of our friends who are not
professors of religion have deep convictions of the
value of Christianity to the world. They know that
sound morality, public and private virtue, cannot
endure on any other foundation than that of Chris-
tianity. They are thoroughly penetrated with a
sense of the baseness of vice, and the glory and ex-
cellence of goodness. They know that politics would
rot, and the liberties of the country go to the owls
and bats, in a quarter of a century, without the sus-
taining pillars of Christianity. The conscience is the
bulwark of humanity, but without religion it is a
bulwark of pasteboard. The Church is the depos-
itory, the defender and promoter, of religion, without
which both Christianity and the public conscience,
like Jonah's gourd, would perish in a night. This
being manifestly true, our non-professing friends

1 1 8 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

love the Church, and support it, as patriots and as
friends of humanity.

We go, however, still further than this. Many of
our friends who have attended the Church for years —
besides the pleasure of taste, besides the memory of
the precious departed, fragrant thoughts of whom still
cling to the place, besides their conviction that
humanity cannot live without virtue, nor virtue with-
out religion, nor religion without a Church — have a
higher enjoyment, a real religious pleasure. If we
may infer from their satisfaction with the divine serv-
ice, from the purity and Christian decorum of their
lives, from the very tenderness and beauty of their
attachments to the pious, from their tears under the
simplest Gospel preaching or the narration of the
simplest Christian experience, from the eager pleas-
ure with which they contribute to the support of the
Gospel, from their well-known habits of secret prayer
and reading of the Scriptures, they cannot be wholly
devoid of piety. No ; it is a pleasant thought, and
very full of comfort, that many not in the Church are
not far from the kingdom of God. They dwell* on
the borders of the land ; only another and but a little
step is needed to take them in.

We are not now speaking of your moral men,
merely, whose virtue is entirely hard and cold ; but
of those who take pleasure in the Church, who delight
to serve it.

Now, what is it that keeps these people out of the
Church ? Having come so far, why do they halt ?

In some cases, we doubt not, they are kept back
by bare timidity. They distrust themselves, and this
prevents them from trusting Christ. They look at

LINGERING AT THE GATES. I 19

the world and tremble at the formidable front which it
turns toward them. They can only do the things to
which they have been used. The profession of Christ
seems like a towering enterprise which must attract
the world's gaze upon them, and they tremble to be
looked at by so many, and in so conspicuous a place.
Besides this, they exaggerate the responsibility in-
volved in the profession of religion. They forget
that men are responsible for profession when they do
not make it ; that Christians are not more respon-
sible than others. They tremble at the thought of
setting themselves up as examples for other people,
which they rightly believe Christians bound to do ;
they tremble to think of what would be expected of
them if they should take their position among the
people of God ; they think there are already too
many unworthy and weak, if not false, disciples, and
ask themselves with alarm if they are to be added to
the number of them that bring a reproach on the holy
name of Jesus.

They overlook the great fact that to be a man is to
be responsible, and that it is infinitely worse to shrink
wholly from our responsibility than to make even the
most imperfect honest and well-meant effort to meet it.
The servant that hid his Lord's money was cast into
outer darkness, while he that had only one talent
and improved it met welcome and reward. My
timid brother, you must be bold enough one day to
die ; you must face eternity and judgment, and stand
distinctly on the right or left of the Judge ; surely, by
divine help, you can come out before the worms of
earth and profess Christ.

In this connection, perhaps, we ought to mention

I 2Q TEE SEW LIFE DA WRING.

what among us is called the altar. Many of these
excellent people of whom we speak allow the custom
of calling persons forward for prayers to stand be-
tween them and a profession of religion. This cus-
tom has worked well ; multitudes have thus made
their profession of a purpose to forsake sin and seek
the pearl of great price. But it is folly for the Church
to treat it as a test of the Christian profession. It
does not even belong to original Methodism. Our
early fathers knew nothing about it. The public
profession of Christ, which is demanded of us in the
Scriptures, is coming to the table of the Lord. God
forbid that the altar, which is meant as a prudential
and human help, should be erected into a test, or
allowed to be a barrier !

But it may be that these dear friends of whom we
are speaking have fallen into the sad mistake of
fancying they must wait to be more powerfully
moved. What a mournful hallucination is this !
Why, my dear brother, have you not been for these
long years on the confines of the kingdom ? Have
you not been divinely influenced to abide with the
people of God in his temple ? Have you not, by
God's grace, been kept from the vices of the world ?
Do you not already love the gates of Zion, her songs,
her holy lessons, her sons and daughters ? and do
you not reverence and worship her King, the Eternal
God? Have you not then been moved — mightily
moved ? Have you not been carried forward a great
way toward God and his Church ? Have you not
been set down before the very latch of the strait
gate ? Moved, indeed ! — wait to be moved ? Why,
you have been moved through and through — through

LINGERING AT THE GATES. 12 I

your life, through your being — and only one thing
thou lackest.

But, my dear friends, who are so regularly in the
house of God, and so long halting on the confines of
the kingdom, perhaps you have fallen into a mistake
as to your duty. It is possible you may not regard
it as necessary to become members of the Church.
You may, perhaps, make the mistake of supposing
that it is enough to be friendly and attentive to the
Church, friendly and helpful to God's children. " This
ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other
undone."

It is not enough to believe as God's people do ; to
pray, and read and love the Scriptures, as they do. It
is not enough to be united in spirit with them. You
must, dear brother, go still further. The inner love
must be formally bodied forth in the act of public
profession. Do you not know that Christ has estab-
lished a Church, which would fall to pieces and drift
into oblivion if its friends were all to treat it as you
do in your mistaken course ? Are you unaware that
Jesus has set up in his Church sacraments ? that he
has said, " Do this in remembrance of me ? " If you
would fully identify yourself with Jesus you must,
with his people, come to the Lord's table. You
must share with the saints the sacramental bread
and wine. You must show forth, not only the Lord's
life in your life, but his death, until his coming again.
The cup of the Lord is the communion of his blood,
and the bread is the communion of his body ; and if
you refuse these you are not of his people, you deny
him before men, and he has said he will deny you
before his Father and before the holy angels. Come,

I 2 2 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINO.

my halting brother, rouse yourself, and allow your
fixed and long-cherished purpose to culminate in a
distinct act of Christian profession. Enter, at once
and openly, into the visible Church of Christ.

There is great danger that you may reach a state of
chronic indecision — that your virtues may freeze into
sins. How many have grown gray, and finally hard,
under the very shadow of the temple !

If a man were to occupy a chair for a single month,
without ever rising from it, however strong when the
month began, he would at the end of it find it almost im-
possible to rise ; the stiffened limbs would find it almost
impossible to perform their functions. And he might
remain sitting until the impossibility would become
complete. Unused grace is like unused physical
strength. To sit at the gates of the Church ever, only
looking in, or watching and enjoying the going in of
others, will not do. The sacred tides of feeling on
which we might have floated in will become stagnant ;
the blessed impulses of grace will grow feebler and
feebler, and the hour when we might have risen and
entered, and fallen at the feet of the Master, may for-
ever pass, and our complacency with the people of God
maybe converted into an indecision at once motionless
and hopeless. O, stand up for the truth ! Use your
present impulses and convictions before you quite
stiffen into a man of iron, whose face and look may
be friendly, but whose heart may be beyond the power
of change.

The proverb says, " Constant dropping wears a
stone." But remember that constant dropping also
produces stone. Enter one of our famous caves and
look around you. See the vast and magnificent

LINGERING AT THE GATES. 123

formations of rock — pillars rising from the floor in
surpassing strength and beauty, and others hanging
from the roof in glittering sublimity, surpassing all
the glory of Grecian architecture. The eye is op-
pressed with the vision. Whence came all this ?
We answer, From the drops of water trickling through
the soil and rocks above. The gentle drops have
been transformed into all this indurated beauty. How
splendid are these formations, and yet, alas ! how hard.
So it may be with you. God vouchsafes the precious
drops of mercy — beware lest, falling on you and re-
maining unimproved, they themselves may turn, and
turn you, into stone. You may become only so many
beautiful petrifactions — admirable but still only stone ;
morally upright, but hard, and fixed outside the pale of
Christ's Church. You know that the Gospel, meant for
living water, may become a stone of stumbling, a rock
of offense ; a savour of life unto life in itself, it may
become a savour of death unto death — the bread a
stone, the egg a scorpion, the fish a serpent.

There is still another danger to those who have so
long been near the kingdom. Sitting so long at the
beautiful gate of the still more beautiful temple, it is
probable they will by and by begin to apologize for
their delay in entering. Leading excellent lives,
beyond reproach, there is danger that they may begin
to compare themselves with the people of God, and
to plume themselves upon their own good conduct.
Within the Church they may see strife, may hear the
din of the voice of disputation, and may be tempted
to think that they compare favorably with professing
Christians. They are in danger of forgetting that it
is their duty to be inside, doing what they can to

1 24 THE NE W LIEE DA WNING.

make the Church efficient ; that, with all the faults in
the Church, it is still that same Church that is doing
all that is done toward saving souls and advancing
the glory and power of the kingdom of God, while
they, with all their virtue, are idle, and even by their
example keeping others from entering. They are in.
danger of forgetting that their supposed superiority
to some of the people of God does not do away with
that terrible word of Christ, that he will deny them
before his Father who deny him before men ; does not
meet his requirement that they shall distinctly pro-
fess his name. O, my brethren, beware ! The apostle
has warned you against comparing yourselves with
others, and has commanded that we compare our-
selves only with the requirements of holy Scripture.
Do you then, waiting at the vestibule of the Church
so long, ask what you shall do ? We answer your
question by asking another, What has been your
error ? Has it not been that you have been unde-
cided, that you have stood idle and irresolute before
the altars of the Church ? You know it is. To
every call of the Church, to every tear which the
Spirit has wrung from your heart and eye, your
answer has been persistent inaction. What you are
to do is to act, to act promptly. With all your fair-
ness of character you are to confess yourselves to be
sinners — carnal, sold under sin, wicked in halting a
single moment, much more in refusing so long.
What is the course of a sensible man when perplexed
in business ? Is it to gaze into vacancy, and stand
spell-bound before his trouble or before his duty ?
or is it not, rather, immediately to ascertain the safe
course and go forward ? Does the sane sick man

LINGERING AT THE GATES. 1 25

only learn what is right and then stop ? If he did,
how quickly would death put an end both to hope
and delay ! With him to decide what should be done
is quickly followed by the doing. Though the
medicine be bitter, or the needful operation painful,
he submits eagerly, for life hangs on that submission.
So must it be here. Gazing at Christ in the' dis-
tance, even though reverently, will not do ; we must
go -to him, we must be joined to him, and to his
mystical body, his bride, the Church. From long
and culpable delay the required act may be painful ;
it may demand all our resolution, all our moral cour-
age, to ignore the eyes of the world, the censure or
the praise of our friends ; but it must be done. We
shall never be at home and find rest for the soul
until we get to Christ — never, never !

A few evenings since, in a neighboring city, a
young man knelt at a Methodist altar in prayer.
Pointing to this person, an aged member of the
Church said to me : " There is a young man like the
young ruler who came to Christ. If he were directed to
keep the commandments, he might reply as the. young
ruler did, ' All these have I kept from my youth up.' "
Yet there he knelt, a weeping penitent, asking pardon
of God. His obedience had not gone to the extent
of accepting Christ as a Saviour. He felt that
although his outer life had been blameless, yet the
leprosy of sin lay deep in his soul.

How sad is the state of those who go no farther
than the commandments ; who stop at the law; who
try to arrange the matter with Moses, and who do
not profess Christ. Look at that young ruler in the
Gospel, just alluded to. His moral character was

1 26 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

exemplary. Even the sublime Jesus admired it, but
he came not up to the test of joining himself to
Christ and his disciples, and who can tell the end of
his career ! Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea
were disciples of Jesus, but secretly. They were
friendly to his person and cause. They hung about
the outskirts of his communion. They enjoyed, ad-
mired, and delighted in his preaching ; they went
almost to the last and crowning act, but not quite.
And what became of them ? Fine men, noted and
prominent as they were in their day, the sun of
sacred history sets on their doom in clouds. The
poor sinful woman who anointed Jesus's feet with
the costly oil is chronicled and treasured among the
early saints ; the poor Canaanitish woman, dog as
she allowed herself to be, will descend to latest pos-
terity, wearing the wreath of evangelical history ;
fishermen and jailers are securely written in the
book of life ; but the rich ruler, the astute councilor,
Nicodemus, the opulent Arimathean Joseph, have
doubt written upon their fate. They did not con-
fess Christ before men. They were only friendly ;
so far as we know they never united themselves and
their fortunes with Jesus and his. They never joined
the Church. They never professed his religion.

O, my long listening, long, halting, long anxious,
long upright, long friendly brethren, I put to you a
serious question which asks a serious answer. Tell
me, if you do not love Christ and his cause on earth
well enough to identify yourself with it, can you
believe he will accept you as his in heaven ? Only
almost in here, do you candidly believe you will get
further there ? Are you content to go on as you

LINGERING AT THE GATES. 12J

are down to the dark valley of shadows, and meet
Christ in the next world not having fully chosen him
in this ? Do you believe your present course will
content you in your death-bed reflections ? / fear
not, I think not. Will it be enough for you then
that you stood as a mere spectator of the struggle
between Christ and Belial, wishing well to the sacred
caus£, but not joining in the conflict ? Will it satisfy
you in the waning hour of life, with a solemn eternity
outspread before you, that your conduct said to every
friend you had on earth, to your own family, don't
profess the religion of Jesus ? I believe that thought
will stud your dying pillow with envenomed thorns,
and give you gall for your last draught. I beg you to
prevent such a sad result by coming at once to Christ,
by ceasing at once to halt, and committing yourself
this blessed, gracious moment to your Lord and to
his Church. Amen.

1 28 TEE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

III.

OUTSIDE HOSPITALITY.*

Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers :
for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. — Heb. xiii, 1,2.

IT may appear curious that the injunction, " Let
brotherly love continue," should be immediately
followed by the command to " entertain strangers."
The significance of the close connection between the
two is, that solicitude for strangers is one of the forms
of brotherly love. If the Samaritan, hated and con-
temned by the Jew, was still his neighbor, whom the
great Master required the Jew to love as himself, so
the stranger, whether Jew or Samaritan, or of what-
ever nationality, is our brother ; and brotherly love is
not continued, but marred and ignored, if we refuse
to care for the stranger.

This duty of regard for strangers is quite as strongly
presented in the Old Testament as in the New.
Moses puts the stranger along with widows and
orphans, and says " the Lord doth execute the
judgment of the fatherless and widow, and loveth
the stranger, in giving him food and raiment. Love
ye therefore the stranger for ye were strangers in the
land of Egypt." The allusion to their being stran-
gers in Egypt is, of course, not intended to imply

* Preached before " The Young Men's Christian Association, Wash-
ington, D. C.

0 UTSIDE HOSPITALIT 7. 1 29

that they must ^ treat strangers well because they
were well treated by the Egyptians. We know, on
the contrary, what hard and oppressive bondage
they suffered. The allusion to Egypt means rather
that they must remember that they had been stran-
gers themselves, and must not treat others as they
had been treated. They must be impelled to do right
to strangers by the remembrance of their own wrongs
endured in Egypt.

We have, however, in the Bible, another reference
to the stranger more striking even than that just
quoted. It is a word from the blessed Jesus himself,
in his description of the last judgment. You remem-
ber how, in that description, he brings all nations
before the final judgment-seat, dividing the wicked
from the righteous, placing one on the right hand
and the other on the left, and then pronouncing the
decision. Among other things, he says to the right-
eous, as a reason why they shall enter into life eter-
nal, " I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; " and
among other reasons given to the wicked for doom-
ing them to eternal punishment is, " I was a stranger,
and ye took me not in." Tne decision of our case in
the last day is, therefore, to be affected by the man-
ner in which we treat the stranger.

The philosophy of the matter is as broad as the
entire question of Christian ethics. The command
to deal kindly with strangers, to look to their inter-
ests, is only an illustration of the command to love
our neighbor. It is an extreme example under the
general law, intended to show us how very far the
law extends, how very broad the commandment is.
" Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," therefore,

1 3 O THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

does not cover merely your relation to your own
family, kindred, friends, acquaintances, country, but
even to the stranger, the man you do not know, never
saw, and never will see. You must love him, and do
what you can to reach him with your love. In other
words, we have laid upon us here the duty of what
may be called, not inaptly, outside hospitality. This,
brethren, from its very terms, is quite a different
thing from what usually passes under the name of
hospitality. This well-sounding word, in popular use,
represents a very respectable quality and certain very
popular customs. It means a readiness to have your
neighbors in your house, and at your table ; it means
making a banquet, and inviting to it a great many
wealthy or renowned guests, who are pressed to over-
load their stomachs with wine and brandy and French
cookery and confectionery ; it means in many coun-
try neighborhoods, as also, indeed, in the cities, the
cordial reception into your houses and social circles
of visiting strangers from remote parts of the coun-
try ; provided, always, that they come with good
letters, or introduced by respectable people ; it means
lending your smiles, and sometimes your horses and
carriage, and giving your time and the contents of
your groaning tables to such as these, while, perhaps,
your pockets would not yield a cent to a tattered
beggar ; it means, in a word, the trouble and expense
of public and private entertainments for people who
are fully able to pay their own way.

Of course, we do not condemn all hospitality be-
tween the better-off classes of society. Human life,
besides its uses, has its charms ; nay, these charms
are themselves uses. God, who studs the acres with

0 UTSIDE HOSPITALIT Y. I 5 I

wheat for man's needs, who has stuffed the earth's
bosom with fuel and the richest ores, has also hung
out the lamps of the sky, and sowed the all-hued
flowers around us, as though the feet of angels had
marked the earth with the colors of heaven. The
table of God, spread in his great guest-chamber of the
world, besides offering fish of every fin, and bird of
every feather and flavor, and bullock and sheep and
swine, blushes also with berries, with peaches and
apples, and laughs with flowers, while the feasters are
regaled with a thousand forms of music from air and
stream and woods. God loves beauty, and he in-
tends that we shall enjoy it as well in social inter-
course as elsewhere. But he has made us rational,
and requires of us to be temperate and frugal. Why
might we not have received the Prince of Wales, on
the occasion of his visit a few years ago, without a
costly ball ? Did he not see in the crowds that
thronged the streets to greet frm a profounder re-
spect for his nation than in a ball, where only a few
of the people could be present ? Could not the
Knglish railway magnate, Sir Morton Peto, and the
friends in this country who entertained him and were
entertained by him, have been quite as polite and
agreeable to each other without spending a hundred
thousand dollars on their dinners and suppers ? Of
course they could ; and in that case they might have
risen from the table less dyspeptic, and have had
more left for the poor. But the wicked -and prodigal
wastefulness of great banquets does not touch the
rights or the joys of rational social intercourse. Let
my friends come to see me and let me see them in
our moments of leisure ; let the simple republican

1 3 2 THE JSTE W LIFE DA WNING.

and Christian table be spread, and let there be no
rivalry of expense, no extravagance or finery ; let the
joy of friendship, the pleasure of pure converse, the
overflow of sweet and affectionate humor, supply the
place of waste and vain display.

The hospitality of which we speak to-day is not a
matter of fashionable and expensive intercourse,
neither is it the pleasant intercourse between
friends at each other's homes. It is real kindness
and service toward strangers, for the purpose of doing
them good ; it is an interest in men as men who
have upon us only the claim of a common human
tie. This we have seen is implied in the idea of
stranger. But what is there about a stranger espe-
cially calculated to enlist our sympathies or to call for
our aid? Why, a stranger in Washington, for ex-
ample, is one who has lately come ; who has here few
acquaintances ; perhaps none. Home and all its
endearing associations are remote. He is thrown as
a waif on the wide, uncertain waters, to climb on the
first raft that floats by, to mount any ship that passes,
and thus to join himself to any company that offers.
Washington is full of just this description of people.
Relatively to the size of the place, no city in the
world, perhaps, has such a number of strangers as
Washington. We say nothing of the members of
Congress, who come here to spend several months
of every year ; we do not mention the heads of the
Government, executive and judicial, who have but
temporary homes among us ; we leave out the large
corps of newspaper reporters and letter-writers.
Besides all these, consider the vast number of clerks
from every State in the Union continually coming

OUTSIDE HOSPITALITY. 133

and going, all dwelling with us a shorter or longer
time. These are largely young men, reared in Chris-
tian families, in Sunday-schools, in Churches ; they
are in part married men, they and their families
almost utterly isolated ; and in not a few cases they
are young women, who come to the seat of Govern-
ment to procure better compensation than is usually
awarded to female labor, and to prove the capacity of
their sex for wrork. Now just consider what is the
position of these people. We all know how greatly
our safety depends on circumstances. The work of
transplanting is always one of difficulty, of delicacy,
of extreme danger. What a breaking of roots, what
a drooping of foliage, what a dropping of blossoms,
what a wilting of unripe fruits ! If this is so of trees
and plants, it is even more so of men and women.
These people at home were upheld in the path of
virtue and safety by the presence and love and coun-
sel and example of father and mother ; by the ties of
long-tried and pure friendships ; by the regular com-
munion of Christian Churches, and by the charmed
localities which they call home, whose landscapes,
and whose forms, even of brick and mortar, are still
treasured in their hearts. These formed the elements
of the soil in which the roots of being grew ; these
were the embankments within whose strong and
guarding sides the smooth current of their life has
flowed ; these were the silken twine with which, in
knots of love, they were bound to the right. - Let us
bethink ourselves how much of our own happiness and
safety are dependent on such relationships and sur-
roundings. How orphaned, how lonely, how sadly
dubious should we feel in their condition ! Do you

1 34 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

not remember how you felt when you sojourned in a
strange place, even for a short time? how thankful
you were for even a slight attention ? how prompt
your heart was to respond to a hospitable act, and
how glad you were afterward of an opportunity to
return it ? Are you right sure — firm as you now
feel — are you right sure that you could have navi-
gated that strange sea safely for three or four years ?
Would you certainly have maintained your integrity,
with all the dear old home-ties broken ?

This is the condition of thronging multitudes
around you. They are isolated ; the old home safe-
guards are wanting ; parental counsels can come
only by letter ; the ten thousand familiar and tangible
solicitations to good and arguments against evil are
missing. This stranger life must find a new channel
for itself ; it must move. And look at the dangers ; see
what sort of a place Washington is. Count up the gam-
bling-houses ; enumerate the groggeries, high and
low, of which there is one for every few scores of the
population ; guess at the number of places of sexual
impurity ; call to mind the four or five theaters ;
and then remember the infinite pains taken by all
these agencies of sin and the evil one to inveigle
these strangers into their nets ; that they rob them,
and riot in the ruin and overthrow of their souls and
bodies. See the liquid that giveth its color in the
cup ; that moveth itself aright ; hanging out its sign,
and bidding for victims at every few steps. Listen,
tremble, at the syren voice of the strange woman,
who whispers now, as in the days of Solomon, that
she " has decked her bed with coverings of tapestry,
with carved work, with fine linen of Egypt, and per-

0 UTSIDE HOSPITALITY. 1 3 5

fumed it with myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon." Hear the
gamesters' promises of fortunes to be made in a night,
or even at a single throw of the symbols of chance !
Read the flaming hand-bills of theaters, with some-
times an impure hint on the face of them ; and scan
the huge pictorial posters of circuses, presenting
female equestrians in dress and posture of grossest
immodesty ; notice the show-chariots from these
places, parading the streets with gayly-decked horseSj
flying banners, and loud music of trumpets ; sending
their invitation into every chamber and into every
ear, saying, " Come, come to the place of revelry."
Do not forget the vile, trashy literature, almost as
cheap as the dirt in which it deserves to be trampled,
flaunted at every book-stall, and piled up in so many
shops, and vended on all the thoroughfares. Think of
the numbers of vile newspapers ; of the many infidel
books ; of the frequently unchristian tone of the
more respectable newspapers ; and, last of all, remem-
ber how profusely and expensively all the more pop-
ular forms of sinful amusements advertise their snares.
Thus beset, surrounded, watched, pursued, dogged,
blood-hounded, by all the multiplied and combined
packs of the great hunter of souls — away from home ;
out of reach of the sweet voices that had taught
them the little prayers of childhood ; away from old
friends and friendly advisers ; from old Church and
Sunday-school ; from all the soil of place and person
in which they had been rooted ; from all the strength-
ening and purifying fountains which had refreshed
and invigorated and fertilized them ; in short, utter
strangers, unprotected, unwarned, unguarded — how
can these people escape !

1 36 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

What can be done for these strangers ? Our first
answer is that they can do a great deal for themselves.
One part of them can so act as to influence the rest
for good. There are a great many people — Christian
people — who come here to spend the years of an
administration ; many of them look upon Washing-
ton merely as a place of sojourn, and therefore do
not formally unite themselves with any of its
Churches. They may have good reasons for this
course ; but there are more and better ones for the
opposite course. The plan for the Christian Church
does not contemplate the idea of its members remain-
ing for years virtually out of its communion. The
Christians who live here, with their Church-member-
ship elsewhere, are out of practical relations with
Christianity ; they are not amenable to Church dis-
cipline here, and their life is utterly unseen and un-
known where their names are on the Church register.
The result is, they are entirely irresponsible.

My dear strange Christian brother, is it not your
duty to identify yourself directly and intimately with
the Church of Christ? If you remain at a distance
from the Churches with which alone it is possible for
you to be vitally and practically connected, what will
be the effect on other strangers — such, namely, as are
not Christians ? Will they not feel that if the com-
munion of the Church is unnecessary for you, it is
not needful for them ? Does not your course make
light of the Church? and does it not give an excuse
and an example for the unconverted in keeping out
of it ?

Besides, you will find, my brother, sooner or later,
that the Christian life is something regular and pro-

0 UTSIDE HO SPIT ALU Y. 1 3 7

gressive ; that he who practically makes light of any
of its advantages, and especially of direct communion
with it, will be dwarfed in spiritual stature, will lose
his taste for spiritual nutriment ; and, wThile occu-
pying his anomalous position in the Church, may
discover that his dangling and distant connection
with the body of Christ was not close enough to keep
him alive.

Christian brethren, dwellers in Washington for a
few years, you ought not only to be in the body of
Christ, and of it ; you ought to dwell in its very
bosom ; you ought to be solidly compacted with it.
You ought to feel every pulsation of its heart, and
your strengtli ought to be a part of its every gener-
ous and vigorous action. You cannot afford to live
four or five years in a state of suspended animation —
to have a great four-year gap of indolence and use-
lessness thrown into 'the very middle of your life.
Belong where you live, and work where you belong.
Thus, a part of the strangers will be disposed of,
garnered in a Christian way ; and the Christian stran-
gers, compacted with the Churches of the place, may
do much toward drawing others with them.

But how shall we reach the strangers that make no
profession of religion ? how save them from the ways
of sin, from the dens of vice, or from spiritual neglect
or isolation ? We answer : The first qualification for
the work is to feel in regard to it — to feel deeply ; to
put these young strangers in the places of our own
sons and brothers, and ourselves in the places of their
parents and friends. What would we have others
feel and do for our boys in a strange city, where vice
threw its gilded bait into all waters ? The answer is

1 3 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

easy, and hardly need be put in words. Go thou, go
we, and do likewise !

There is scarcely one of us who does not come
into contact with some of these strangers. Let us
remember what it is to be a stranger ; let us recall the
danger to which it exposes them ; let us treat them in
a way to revive in their hearts and thoughts the asso-
ciations of a Christian home ; let us invite them to
Church and to Sunday-school, and do every thing in
our power to prevent them from perishing, or even
suffering injury by transplantation ; every thing to
rear new embankments for the current of their life
as safe, as pure, as happy, as the old ones at home,
and even more so.

What though we be not acquainted with them ?
Neither are those who seek their ruin acquainted
with them. The liquor dealer does not refuse his
beverage to the stranger. The stranger is welcome,
thrice welcome, to the faro bank and card table ; is
most earnestly implored to crowd into the theater.

What though we do not know them ? God knows
them ; Christ redeemed them ; angels are minister-
ing spirits, watching their pathway for good, and
wicked spirits are diligent in their efforts to assist
wicked men to destroy them. As wicked men and
lost angels seek to ruin men as men, so Christianity
seeks to save men as men. It sends its disciples out
for all, to gather in all, as many as they can find ; its
field is the world ; its love is for souls ; its great, all-
mastering passion is to conquer for Christ, and to lift
man, as man, to God. For this it fills missionary
coffers, and sends men to the "line or to the pole."
It is not so anxious to know men as it is that they

0 UTSIDE HOSPITALITY. 1 3 9

should know God and Christ, and " be found in
him." When one of its disciples converts a sin-
ner, no matter whom, from the error of his way, he
saves a soul from death and hides a multitude of
sins. When one poor sinner, no matter who, is re-
deemed by the power of Christianity ; when the Good
Shepherd brings home the lost sheep, whatever the
name, on his shoulder ; when the tattered, beggared,
humbled prodigal — any prodigal — comes back to the
loving Father, the harps of heaven are swept by angel
fingers, and its walls and floors echo with holy, grate-
ful joy. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth, no matter who he is, no matter whether
those who sing and shout ever saw him or not. It
is enough that he is a man, whether a Caesar or a
Lazarus.

" The rank is but the guinea's stamp ;
The man's the gowd for a' that."

O what a glorious thing it is to save a man,
whether savage or civilized ! But we are especially
bound, not only by the motives of the broadest Chris-
tian charity, but even by a regard for our own wel-
fare as a community, to labor for and to save these
strangers. They are here for our as well as their
weal or woe ; they will make our city better or worse ;
their life, whether good or bad, will make its mark
upon others. In working for them we are working
for ourselves. The man we neglect may poison the
minds of our own children. The man we convert
may bring life to our own friends. It is for us to say
whether the young people among us shall bless or
curse us, build us up or pull us down.

But how shall we speak to the strangers them-

140 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

selves, especially to the young — more especially to
those who stand off from the Church, who stand in
the way of sinners, who visit dangerous places, who
are lingering on the slippery ledges of temptation ;"
who think to touch pitch without being defiled, to
tipple without being drunken, to keep bad company
without being like it, to read bad books without being
corrupted ; who are allowing a mother's image almost
to fade out of their hearts ? I would ask such to go back
with me to their early homes ; to mingle once more,
in thought, in the scenes of their childhood ; to say
over again their little prayers ; to join in family
devotion at the old fireside, and to be children again.
If you consent, we are " home again." Now look
into the face of that mother. O, fathomless depths
of a mother's love ! Is there a line long enough to
sound it ? Is there a sacrifice she has not made for
you? Is there a misfortune of yours that has not
caused her heart to bleed ? Is there a sin of yours
for which she has not repented, even though you did
not? Is there a sorrow of yours that has not deep-
ened the wrinkles in her cheek ? Have you looked,
my brethren, on a mother when her child was in
trouble ? Did any other face ever so blend love and
grief? O, constancy and intensity, O, persist-
ency and endlessness, of a mother's love! Fate
may smite you ; you may become an outcast ; the
law may seize you and pronounce you a felon,
and you may be a felon, but you are still a son
or a daughter. The prison cell will be your
mother's happiest resort, and even the scaffold has
no power over her love. She forgives what the law
punishes with death, and society with disgrace, and

OUTSIDE HOSPITALITY. 141

forgives, besides, the greater crime of breaking her
heart. She would love you if you were a swollen,
bloated drunkard. If you were a wretched magdalen,
with the seven demons still unexpelled — ay, if you were
stained with blood foully shed — she would not refuse
even then the blessed, holy kiss that sweetened the
lips of your innocent babyhood.

Such is a mother. Young man, art thou a wan-
derer from God in a strange and wicked city ? has
thy heart been robbed almost of its holy memories ?
art thou already in the edge of a dreadful vortex,
and is the rapid, whirling current chafing and tear-
ing at thy soul ? Look at that mother. Feel again,
dear endangered stranger, her warm kisses on thy
brow ; remember how you hung about her neck, and
how she gave back all your caresses more than
double ; look down into the depth of her loving eyes ;
hear her prayers following you like a breathing
shadow from the moment of your birth to the very
last tick of yonder clock ; let the power of home
memories, especially of a mother's love, come to thy
relief, and take thee back to the softness and plas-
ticity of childhood, and, when thy mother and thy
childhood have thus reached thee, prayer may come
again ; the Church, the Bible, and your Father, God,
may be welcome again ! O, I beseech thee by the
gentle features of thy infancy ; by the scenes of thy
childhood ; by the breasts from which thou wast nour-
ished ; by the old Bible and hymn-book out of which
thou wast read and sung to, and especially by the holy
heart on which thy infancy slept and dreamed of
heaven ; I beseech thee, come away from sin, come
to Jesus, come to his Church, come to thyself!

1 42 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

IT.

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES.

Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish : for I work a work
in your days, a work which ye shall in no wise believe, though a
man declare it unto you. — Acts xiii, 41.

RELIGION has appeared in the world in two
forms — natural and revealed. When we speak
of natural religion we do not refer to that system
which the learned have deduced from the study of
man's nature and his relations to the world about
him. The dogmas of this system are the being and
certain attributes of God, man's immortality, his
freedom, and his accountability, together with the
necessity of some sort of worship to be rendered to
the Creator. By natural religion we mean no system
at all ; but rather that religious sentiment, or element,
which all great men, unless they were atheists, have
acknowledged to be a part of human nature, as essen-
tial to it as air to the lungs.

It is altogether the fashion, when revelation is
totally denied, to admit that man is a religious being,
and to claim that the religious sentiment in him,
honestly obeyed, is religion enough for him. And
yet we are not aware that either the system of nat-
ural religion, technically so-called, or this more vague
religious sentiment, has ever been erected into a

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 143

system of actual worship. Whatever sense of obliga-
tion they may have awakened has not drawn men
together and organized them into Churches. They
who deny revelation have justly felt that if God did
not instruct us how he would be worshiped, the
matter might be safely left to each one's taste and
option. Where does history tell us of deists meet-
ing together, and laying down their creed, and form-
ing themselves into a Church, and establishing their
Church service ? Where have the philosophers and
their followers organized themselves into worshiping
societies around the mere religious sentiment which
they acknowledge to be an essential part of human
nature ? We answer, Nowhere.

And yet we are not inclined to deny the existence
of deistical Churches — Churches which are united
around the vague religious sentiment of which we
have spoken. Such we regard all Churches which
reject the essential elements of Christianity, as the
divinity of Christ, his atonement for the sins of men,
and the great doctrines of depravity and regenera-
tion. But these deistical Churches did not originate
from their present theories. They became deistical
within the pale of orthodox, evangelical, Christian
communions, and went out, or were thrust out, carry-
ing their Church organization, their forms of worship,
and their deism with them. They were Churches,
or societies, from which all the peculiar elements of
revelation had been eliminated, and in which only the
general truths of theism and ecclesiastical forms had
been retained. The soul had departed, but the
body had not immediately fallen into decay ; another
soul essayed to keep house, but was ill at ease ; for

1 44 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

it is not natural that mere deism should express itself
in Church life. It never has made a Church for
itself, though it has fallen heir to the shells of some
that were already formed.

We mean simply that natural religion, the mere
religious sentiment, has never organized itself at all.
Where Churches have departed from Christian truth,
and have nothing left but the common religious
sentiment or instinct, they have sometimes retained
their organization and their forms of worship, but
they have been obliged still to hold on to the name
of Christian. No religion but a revealed one, or such
as claimed to be revealed, or passed under the name
of revelation, has ever had an organized existence in
the world. This is most remarkable, and very dam-
aging to such as hold religion to be an essential
element of human life, while they still deny revela-
tion. All the religions of antiquity, however false
they may have been in many respects, however con-
flicting with each other in their doctrines, agreed in
claiming to have been revealed from heaven. The
same is true of the religions of heathen nations now :
they all claim to be revelations. There seems to be
a conviction — universal in human nature — that relig-
ion is essentially a revelation. The world heretofore
has always acted on this principle, and in so acting
has no doubt expressed a great truth, namely, that a
true religion is, and must be, a revelation.

Let us, then, turn our attention to revealed religion.
The religious sentiment finds its demands met no-
where but in a revelation. It is only when it believes
itself in communion with the supernatural that it is
satisfied. But how shall the supernatural, how shall

THE EVIDENTIAL FORGE OF MIRACLES. 145

the revelation from heaven, prove itself to be such ?
We have sometimes met with the demand that re-
ligion should have proof similar to that furnished by
mathematics. This is simply foolish. Christianity
is not a circle, nor a square, nor a triangle ; it is not
a sum, to be worked out by arithmetic or by algebra.
Will we teach a child his alphabet by giving him les-
sons in counting ? or send him to the woods to see
the life of the city ? Nor, again, can we prove relig-
ion to be a revelation from heaven by arguing upon
its contents. It is true that there is much in the
teachings of the Scriptures to commend them to our
belief. Coleridge has said that the Bible finds him as
no other book does. Daniel Webster said that when
he read the Sermon on the Mount he felt himself
penetrated with the conviction that it was from God.
The Earl of Rochester, on his death-bed, said that
when he read the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah he be-
came fully convinced and assured that the Bible was
divine. But this is far from being universally the
case. These persons, and others like them who
have been convinced by simple reading, were in the
proper spiritual condition to receive the truth of God ;
but other persons, and even these themselves at
other times, have not had this fitness to hear and
believe at once. The heart was opposed to the
spirit of the Gospel, and conviction could only be
obtained through the intellect.

In a discussion on the merits of Christianity — as
on every thing else — success depends more on skill
and acuteness than on sincerity or truth. The worst
is easily made to appear the better reason. What
and who, then, shall decide ? We answer, God him-

10

146 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

self must speak. If he has indeed made a revelation,
he must speak a second time, and say so. The
miracle of revelation is a miracle indeed ; but it is
only a miracle to him who receives it. It must be
substantiated to others and made a miracle to them
by another miracle which shall be manifestly such.
There is no other way ; and hence Christianity pro-
fesses to be a miraculous history, and Jesus and his
apostles appeal to miracles as the proof of their in-
spiration. Christ says, " If I had not done among
them the works which none other man did, they had
not had sin." And again he says, " If ye believe not
me, yet believe me for the very works' sake." And
Peter, on the day of Pentecost, in his address to the
Jews, speaks of Jesus as " a man approved of God
among you by miracles, and wonders, and signs, which
God did by him."

Without, therefore, making miracles the only evi-
dence of religion, we hold them to be essential. To
the Christian the contents of Holy Scripture are
strong self-evidences, and the work of divine grace in
his own heart is a powerful proof ; to the receptive
seeker after Christ and his divine life the sacred books
maybe their own authentication. But they are what
they are — even in these cases — not only because
they contain certain doctrines and precepts and
promises, but also because they narrate certain mir-
acles. Take oat these miracles, and the Bible ceases
at once to be even a sacred book. Without its spots
of supernatural brightness, without its angelic ap-
pearances, and its bold and grand divine interpo-
sitions, the promises and precepts become tame and
common, and the doctrines dwindle into arbitrary

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 1 47

propositions. If, therefore, the character of the Script-
ure has its office in proving their divinity, that char-
acter is ineffectual unless in its turn it has direct
supernatural attestation in miracles. The grand and
indispensable test, the divine test, of the Bible being
divine must be furnished by the interposition of God,
clear and manifest. A miracle alone is such an
interposition.

But we are met at the threshold of the argument
with objections. These objections may resolve
themselves into two, namely : I. That of Spinoza,
that the law of nature, being God's law, cannot be
altered or modified ; that God will not interfere with
his own law, and that therefore a miracle is impos-
sible. 2. That of Hume, that, even if it were pos-
sible for a miracle to be wrought, it would be impos-
sible to prove it.

Let us now take up these two objections in their
order : I. That of Spinoza, that, the order of nature is
fixed, that it is the law of God, and that, this being
so, a miracle is impossible, because God will not dis-
honor his own law by breaking it.

There is, of course, a fixed order of nature ; there
are what are called laws of nature, and these are
laws of God ; but the assertion that a miracle is im-
possible because the law of nature cannot be violated
falsely assumes that a miracle is a violation of the
law of nature. It is true that the miracle of Script-
ure interferes with nature, changes the modes of its
manifestation, and does k, too, in a way to show clearly
the hand of God, and thus to give indubitable proof
of the divinity of Christianity ; but an interference
with the course of nature is not necessarily a viola-

1 48 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

tion of its laws. Allow me to illustrate here. The
ordinary way, among farmers, of rearing chickens, is
to allow the hen to sit on her own eggs a certain
number of weeks, until the happy mother-bird hears
the musical chirp of her own chicks. But suppose,
instead of leaving the eggs with the hen, the farmer
should hatch them out in an oven of the proper
temperature, would he be violating the law of nature ?
Certainly not ; and yet he would be obviously interfer-
ing with the ordinary course of nature. When we grow
tropical fruits or flowers in a hot-house, do we violate
the law of nature ? Of course not ; and yet we inter-
fere with the ordinary course of vegetable life. By
these illustrations we do not mean to intimate that
the manner in which men interfere with the law
of nature is analogous to the way in which Christ
and the apostles interfere with it in their miracles.
In the miracles an immeasurably greater control is
exerted over nature than is possible to man — that is
essential to a miracle. All we mean is that man, in
raising chickens, for instance, makes as great a
change in his method of dealing with nature, when
he uses the oven instead of the hen for hatching the
eggs, as the Saviour does in his method, when, in-
stead of using his power in the ordinary way of
nature, he uses it in the extraordinary way of miracle.
If man in changing the form or mode in which he
exerts his power over nature violates no law, neither
does the Creator in changing the form in which he
exerts his higher power over nature. As the law
of nature for man does not require every act to be
performed with rigid and unvarying sameness, but
admits great variety within a certain range of fixed

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 1 49

principles, so the law of nature in its relation to
the Deity cannot prescribe and bind him to a
single mode. The substance of that law for the
Lord of all must be that, however his infinite power
is exerted, the exertion must be controlled by in-
finite wisdom and holiness ; and, whatever may be
the change in the mode of the power, the law re-
mains unbroken, provided the same power be exerted
under the direction of the same wisdom and holiness.
Man, that is, uses his power over nature variously in
his sphere without violating law, and God may
use his higher power in its sphere variously without
a violation of the grander and broader law which reg-
ulates the exercise of divine power.

Let us apply these reasonings to the miracles of
Scripture. When the wine grows in the grape, Christ
exerts his creative power in one way; and when he trans-
forms the waterin to wine, he exerts the same power
in another and uncommon way. So, when the multi-
tude is fed with the five little loaves, Christ only uses
the same power which had produced bread in the old
way to produce bread in a new way. The production
was rapid and immediate, instead of waiting for the
common, tardy process of growth. The same sub-
stances which are at the divine disposal for the ordi-
nary processes of producing wine and bread must be
at his disposal for other methods. The power which
creates, if intelligent, implies the power to vary the
form in which the creative act is done, just as the
greater implies the less, and as the whole includes
its parts. The law of creation, which consists in the
power to create according to an infinitely wise and
holy and divine will, is not violated any more by one

1 5 O THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

mode of creation than by another. It seems to me
to be taking a very narrow view of the divine law —
the law of nature — to suppose that the ordinary proc-
esses of nature exhaust the whole of that law, that
is, all the modes of its operation. That were as
though a tyro in art should undertake to judge his
preceptor after having received only a single lesson,
and should boast that he had all his master's art at
his finger ends.

Besides, there may be other worlds, in which the
law of creation, or the law of nature, assumes a form
substantially like what we call miracle. And if God
should exert his power in those other worlds, as he
ordinarily does in this, the inhabitants would cry
out, A miracle ! and some Hume or Spinoza would
proceed to show that what had taken place was
impossible, because it was against the order of
nature.

Or, again, what we call miracle may be the law of
nature for special exigencies in God's moral govern-
ment, only called for at long intervals in eternal his-
tory. In this respect the miracle may be analogous
to laws of war. In times of peace every thing pro-
ceeds according to a certain fixed order, but when
war breaks out the changed circumstances call for a
different method of administering the law ; still, it is
law in one case as much as in the other, and one of
broader enactment, as just in one, as in the other
case ; the law is no more violated in the one case
than in the other. The law has only varied its form
to suit the circumstances.

But let us take another view. We must re-
member that the law of God is not merely physical.

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 151

It does not consist wholly in modes of animal or
vegetable life and growth. There is higher law than
this. Perhaps it would be degrading this higher law
to call it a law of nature. In one sense, at least, it is
above nature. But still it is the law of God over the
world of mankind. We mean that, besides the laws
of the material world, there are the laws of the intel-
lectual and moral world. These, taken together, make
the law of God, as we see it in the present state. Of
course, we would not undertake to say that even all ol
these constitute the whole law of God. They are, no
doubt, but parts of his ways. His universe and his
nature, are too large for us to restrict him. But, even
taking these laws of God as we see them, and remem-
bering that they are a unit — that they are his one law,
as far as that law is known to us — still the different
parts of this law are not of equal dignity : those parts
of the law relating to the intellect 'must be more im-
portant than those relating to matter ; and as mind is
higher than matter, those parts of the law relating
to morals, to purity, must be higher than those which
only regard the intellect, because of the superiority
of our spiritual to our intellectual nature. Now,
should it be esteemed a violation of this law, as a
whole, if its lower forms are modified to promote
and honor the higher ? Nay, is not this the very idea
of subordination, as seen in the divine government —
that the lower interest shall serve the higher, and, in
a sense, be sacrificed to the higher ? Among men,
physical interests, which are lawful in themselves,
must be sacrificed to intellectual, as, for example, in
taxing the wealth of a city for public education. In
this case the law of the intellect overrides that of

1 5 2 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

wealth. Or, again, if we were about to send a son to
school, and two different schools presented them-
selves for our patronage, in one of which a perfect
system of literary training was seen to be combined
with ruinous moral principles, and in the other a
pure moral training with only respectable scholarship,
you would sacrifice the lower, the merely literary,
interest to the higher, the moral. Again, the law of
the State protects property ; that is law ; and yet, if
a certain piece of property is needed for public pur-
poses, no matter what may be the resistance of the
owner, the lower interest of the individual must give
way to the higher and broader of the State. Now,
when property interests are sacrificed to the intel-
lect, or when the intellect succumbs to the rights of
the conscience, or when private property is taken for
the State against the remonstrance of the owner,,
who will say there is any violation of law ? The
lower laws have succumbed to the higher, have
shaped themselves to the higher, have been modi-
fied for the general interest ; and this was in ac-
cordance with the spirit of the law, taken in its
broadest sense ; this was, and is, the law in its
inmost spirit. The individual must yield to the
State, the body to the intellect, and the intellect to
the moral nature.

And so in relation to God's law. The clods are
subordinate to brute life, brute life to human life,
and man's earthly to his eternal interests. And when
Jesus, as Lord of all, recognizes this subordinating
distinction, and trenches upon the forms of national
law in the interest of the spiritual life of immortal
beings, he keeps, not violates, the law of the universe.

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. I =5

DJ

When he calls up the dead, or heals the lame or
blind, he is simply modifying the expressions of
divine power in the lower spheres of being in the
interest of the higher life of men. He is promoting
the highest portion of his law, and honoring it by a
free but lawful use of the lower part of it. The
law of nature seems to be broken in the miracle, that
the higher law of the spirit may be kept ; but that
seeming breaking is an essential part of the broadest
and truest keeping.

This leads us to another thought closely related to
this. Why was the course of nature fixed, as it man-
festly is, as a general thing ? We might answer that
every interest of human life is served by a fixed
course of nature. What a sad condition should we
be in if the rising and setting of the sun were matters
of uncertainty — if summer and winter, seed-time and
harvest, might come or not, or might come and go
in capricious order, or in no order. The order of
nature gives certainty to our calculations ; it gives
work, and rest, and bread, in due season. But was
not this fixed order also intended to serve a much
nobler purpose than any merely temporal one ?
If the course of nature had not been fixed, if there
had been no rule according to which the world
should be governed, there could have been no mir-
acle ; every thing would have been anomalous —
anomaly would have been the useless rule ? And in
that case, how could a religion have been authenti-
cated ? for we have seen that religion could only be
proved by a miracle. Strange, then, as it may appear,
it seems rational to assert not only that a miracle is
possible, notwithstanding the fixed course of nature, but

154 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

that the course of nature was fixed, perhaps, mainly
for the very purpose of making miracles possible.
Man's religious interests — his interests for eternity —
are, of course, infinitely higher than every thing
temporal. What are harvests, and all the blessings
of regular mundane life, compared with life eternal ?
And if the order of nature was meant to serve these
lower forms of life, how much more the highest ? A
miracle is possible, therefore, though the order of na-
ture be fixed, and because it is fixed. And if religion
be man's highest interest, was it not fixed more for
that purpose than for any other ? Was not all the
lower creation intended as a sort of scaffolding, or
stand-point, from which to build up man's highest
interests — the immortal ? At all events, if nature
had not been generally fixed there could have been
no such changes wrought in it as take place in mir-
acles, and, so far as we can see, there would have
been no way of establishing religion. A miracle is
such a modification of the course of nature as only
God can effect. Without such a miracle it would be
impossible to know that God had spoken to men ;
and God could not thus have spoken if there had
been no course of nature on which to lay his hand and
show his power by modifying it.

Having answered the first objection, namely, that
a fixed order of nature makes a miracle impossible ;
and having shown that a miracle is not a violation
of the law or order of nature, but only such a modi-
fication of the lower parts of the law as vindicate
and establish the higher parts, and thus do honor to
the law as a whole ; and having shown that a fixed
order of nature, so far from making a miracle impos-

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 155

sible, is the condition upon which a miracle becomes
possible, let us proceed to answer the second objec-
tion, Hume's, that no possible amount of testimony
can prove a miracle. The case of a miracle, an
alleged miracle, he says, is a contest of probabilities ;
a question whether it is not more probable that any
human testimony should be false than that a miracle
should be true. His meaning is that men generally
have found the laws of nature unvarying, and that
the impression made upon their minds by this fact is
so strong that they find it impossible to believe in a
miracle, which is at least a deviation from the ordi-
nary manifestations of nature, and such a one as only
divine power can produce.

In answering this objection to the possibility of
proving, or of believing, a miracle, we scarcely need
refer to the fact that it is already substantially met
by the above explanation of a miracle. -The objection
that belief in miracles is impossible, proceeds on the
supposition that a miracle is a violation or reversal
of the law of nature ; whereas, we have shown that a
miracle is only such a modification of the lower law
of the universe as completes and glorifies the higher ;
that the great Ruler in a miracle stands on the scaf-
folding of the lower law to build up the higher — the
moral and spiritual; that what men have falsely called
violating the law of nature, is simply the noblest use
that could be made of one part of the universe for
the purpose of upholding the highest interests of the
whole of it. If the miracle, therefore, keeps and
strengthens the law, instead of violating it, the ob-
jection founded on the hypothesis of its being a
violation of the law must fall to the ground.

1 5 6 THE NE W LIEE DA WNIJSTG.

But there is still more to be said, in showing the
folly of this objection against the possibility of be-
lieving a miracle. In the first place, if there is a
strong presumption against any such change in the
operations of nature as is shown in a miracle, if the
permanence of the laws of nature is a presumption
against a change, there are also presumptions in
favor of a change. Such a presumption is found in
man's religious constitution. That constitution is a
standing demand for a revelation. Man feels that
he must serve his Creator, but is painfully conscious
of his own ignorance as to the manner of per-
forming that service. He is not content with the
simple religious sentiment which he finds in himself.
Nay, that is what produces the discontent. That
sentiment reveals a want which it cannot satisfy.
It intimates a God, duties, rewards, punishments,
and then leaves the whole in utter darkness. No
mere tinkering with this sentiment can content him —
no building up of a human system on this inward
hint; he feels a longing for the infinite, for commun-
ion,- actual communion, with the supernatural, and
any thing short of this is mockery to his soul. Is
there not in this a presumption that God will reveal
himself? Did he put this want in the soul of the
race only to tantalize it ? If God should grant a
revelation, and work miracles to attest the revelation,
would not such a course be in accordance with what
he had already done ? would it not be fulfilling the
promise implied in the religious sentiment ?

Further, all our ideas of God, our heavenly Father,
are such, among civilized people, as to make it prob-
able that he would miraculously reveal his will, and

TEE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 157

attest it by supernatural intervention. God is all
powerful, and therefore able to make himself known ;
he knows our wants ; and then he is benevolent, and
delights in our happiness. Does not this, instead of
arguing that it is impossible to believe in a miracle,
make it probable and easy to believe that God would
intervene to give his will to men ? Are we not, there-
fore, inclined, from our ideas of the divine nature, to be-
lieve that a miracle is the very thing to be expected ?

But to what folly are Hume's objections reduced
when we look at the actual facts ? He asserts that
it is impossible to believe in a miracle, and yet if you
take the whole history of the world, nine men, per-
haps, out of every ten that ever lived have actually
not disbelieved, but believed in miracles. The hea-
then believe in miracles, and Christians believe in
them ; and even in our own times belief in them is the
rule, and unbelief the exception. The great mass,
educated and uneducated, believe ; only an occasional
man rejects. Where, then, is the propriety of saying
that no testimony can prove a miracle, and therefore
no one can believe a miracle, when almost every man's
belief contradicts the brazen assertion ? Hume's argu-
ment is to the effect that no one can believe a miracle ;
the fact is that almost every one believes in them.

Nay, more: the love of the supernatural and of the
miraculous is inherent in man, and ineradicable.
Even when men become infidels and atheists they
are not rid of it. Who are most of the Spiritualists,
who fancy themselves to be holding daily intercourse
with disembodied spirits ? We answer that many of
them are rejecters of the Christian revelation, trying
to satisfy the spiritual want and the longing for the

1 5 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

miraculous in another way. They have freed them-
selves from their old prejudices in favor of the Bible ;
but the love of the supernatural still asserts its exist-
ence ; it will not down ; it must still have satisfaction,
in however foolish a fashion.

It will not do to say that this longing for the
supernatural may be resolved into the love of the
marvelous, the wonderful. It is not so. We may
see all the wonders of nature, all the prodigies of
chemistry, mechanism, and electricity, and not the
slightest advancement is made toward satisfying the
demand for the miraculous. The soul still thirsts for
God, still cries out for the living God, still demands
to be brought into the presence of the supernatural —
to see, in miracles, the evidence that Jehovah speaks
to men. And hence, where there have been no gen-
uine miracles men have invented false ones. But
the fact that false ones succeeded only proved that
the demand was real, and that even the true religion
could only succeed by meeting this demand. And
when the true religion came, it was a religion not
merely of mercy and truth, of wisdom and goodness,
but also of miracles ; and without these miracles —
man's want — the deep demand of his nature would
not have been met. How foolish, then, is the objec-
tion that a miracle is incredible ! It is, on the con-
trary, as now shown, the very thing we might expect
from our religious constitution, from the character of
God, from man's universal, inextinguishable craving
for the very thing itself, and from the fact that men
believe so easily in the counterfeits in the absence
of 'any thing better.

We have now shown, in opposition to Spinoza,

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 1 59

that a miracle is possible ; that, so far from violating
the law of the universe, taken in its broad sense, it
only modifies the lower portions of the law called
the course of nature, for the purpose of establishing
and glorifying the law in. its whole height and breadth.
In opposition to Hume we have proved that, so far
from its being impossible to believe in miracles, it
has been impossible to prevent the great body, even
of civilized men, from believing in them : that our
nature demands the supernatural, and only finds rest,
not in common marvels, but in miracles ; and that our
ideas of God make it in the highest degree probable
that he will meet by miracles the demand planted
by himself in our nature.

It would naturally be now in order to examine the
miracles of the New Testament, and see whether or
not they are supported by sufficient historical testi-
mony. But this would be the work of a ponderous
volume instead of an ordinary discourse. In con-
clusion, we, can only say that the miracles of Jesus
and his apostles beautifully agree with the other
parts of the sacred history, with which in sweetest
simplicity they are interwoven. From Him who said
he came down from heaven, and was one with the
Father ; from Him who dared to call himself " the
Way, the Truth, and the Life ;" who boldly set himself
before men as the Light of the world, we were obliged
to expect miracles. His being among men in the
character which he claimed was professing a miracle,
and if he had only done common deeds his preten-
sions would not have been supported. Miracles, and
miracles alone, could convince men that he was what
he claimed to be.

1 60 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

How natural it was that He who said he had come
from heaven should ascend to heaven, as he did be-
fore the eyes of his disciples ; how natural that he
who called himself the Resurrection and the Life
should rise from the dead ; how natural that he who
offered to raise men from the death of sin to the life
of righteousness should call Lazarus out of his grave ;
that he who came to instruct the ignorant and im-
bruted human race should open blind eyes, deaf ears,
and cast out evil spirits !

How harmonious with itself is that book in which
the Sermon on the Mount is framed in with mir-
acles— miracles at the beginning and miracles at
the end — wonders of wisdom but wonders of might !
How beautiful, in short, that the attributes of divine
wisdom and love in the teaching of Christ should
move side by side, in the same narrative, with the
attributes of power and love in the miracles of Christ!

Yes, holiness and wisdom were to be expected in
the teachings of revelation, and yet with these alone
we should be miserable, for how should we know
whether the wisdom was from God or from men ?
The miracles were necessary to be added ; and so
added, the divine teachings find appropriate company
and certain proof The teaching is worthy of the
skies ; but the miracles alone could connect it with
the skies. The teaching seemed in the divine hand-
writing ; but who had ever seen God write ? The
world would have been in doubt if Jesus had not
wrought his miracles ; they showed God putting his
hand to the instrument, and signing it in the pres-
ence of witnesses who died in attestation of what
their eyes had seen and their hands had handled.

THE EVIDENTIAL FORCE OF MIRACLES. 161

Here, my brethren, in these miracles of Scripture,
we find the fulfillment of the human hope that God
would speak to the world, and so speak that* the
world would know the voice to be indeed his. Here
we find the meaning of all the longings of the heathen,
expressed in their strange mythology ; here we find
the fulfillment of what is promised in the dim but
powerful religious instinct of the race; the explana-
tion of the universal demand for the supernatural ;
the meaning of the wayward fancies of spirit-rappers,
and of the wonderful power over the human mind
of ghost stories. They all point to the miracles of
Scripture as their reality, as their sense, as their sub-
stance. Even the counterfeit miracles have a power
while they are believed, but that is because the feeling
is natural and real, and therefore proper, and their
power to produce this feeling shows that there is
somewhere a real miracle, from simulating which the
counterfeit derived its power. Come, my brethren,
study the miraculous history ; the more it is studied,
in its works and in its words, the more thorough will
be our conviction of its divinity, and the nearer shall
we come to Him who is the central form of all its
saying and doing.

11

1 62 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

i
»

v.

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME.

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain : for
the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain. —
Exod. xx, 7.

But I say unto you, Swear not at all ; neither by heaven ; for it is
God's throne : nor by the earth ; for it is his footstool :, neither by
Jerusalem ; for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou
swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or
black. — Matt, v, 34-36.

WE do not characterize profanity as a fashionable
amusement, but as a fashionable crime. And
yet there is an aspect of profanity which allies it
very intimately with amusements — that in which it
assumes the form of a jest, and gathers its material
for quips and conundrums from sacred sources. As
amusements oscillate between coarse and brutal sin
on the one hand, and comparatively innocent forms
of speech on the other, so profanity finds its com-
pleted diabolical form in blasphemy, and from that
height of crime sweeps down through its lower grades,
until it seems to vanish on the line between sacred
wit and criminal license.

Another point at which fashionable amusements
and the crime of profanity appear to approach each
other is to be found in the fact that neither they nor
it appear directly to assail the interests of the com-
munity. Murder, slander, and theft, for instance, are
crimes not only because they are in violation of the

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 163

divine command, but because they attack the life, the
good name, and the property of men ; they must be
resisted by all honest, and indeed by all, people in self-
defense. But as men can allow fashionable amuse-
ments, even in seriously doubtful shapes, to go forward,
and not apprehend direct danger to the community,
so can they allow swearing and other forms of pro-
fanity to be committed without the fear of personal
harm. Profanity, for the most part, is only wicked
breath, wrong words. But it were a shallow and
godless view of human life which would deny that
there is any such thing as injury except to property,
person, and reputation. There are evils connected
even with fashionable and respectable amusements
which taint the heart and corrupt the moral char-
acter, and it is of the very nature of profanity to do
the same thing in a still higher degree. The breath
spent in profane swearing, cursing, or jesting, may
not rob a neighbor of his money, or life, or good
name ; it may not literally taint the air with conta-
gion ; but morally it robs and murders the profane
wretch himself, and spreads abroad a contagion dead-
lier than cholera or yellow fever.

Let us now proceed to inquire, first, what profanity
is, and wherein its great criminality consists ; second,
to what extent it has become fashionable ; and, third,
what should be done to check and restrain it. What,
then, do we mean by profanity ? We answer, Any
light or contemptuous treatment, whether by word
or deed, of sacred things, as in common cursing and
swearing or in common conversation.

The essence of profanity, therefore, is contempt for
what is sacred, and wherever this contempt is shown

1 64 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

it must, of course, be presumed, however uncon-
sciously, to exist. If children can bandy about the
names of their parents, it is evidence that contempt
has crept into their relation to their parents, and has
usurped the place of that filial reverence which both
nature and the Creator have ordained. If an Amer-
ican can speak abusively of our Revolutionary fathers,
or can sneer at our country's flag or Constitution, it
is evidence of a real breach between his heart and
true patriotism. He is, as an American, demoralized.
He despises both the history and the authority of
the nation.

If we now examine the various forms of profanity,
we shall see that we have properly defined it. Look
first at what is called " taking the name of God in
vain ;" that is, the violation of the third command-
ment, which forbids any name of Jehovah to be used
lightly, thoughtlessly, angrily, or irreverently. God's
name stands for himself; it is that word, whether
written or spoken, by which we receive and express
all the attributes of God ; if, therefore, there can be
such a thing as a most holy word, that word must be
any recognized name of the Supreme Being. By the
side of such a name the most sacred ones of earth,
even that of mother, father, country, and all others,
must almost cease, at least during the comparison, to
be sacred. And if an irreverent use of these inferior
names would shock us as having the quality of wick-
ed contempt, what shall we say of contempt for that
name that includes the excellences of all others, and
appropriates and exalts such excellences to an infinite
altitude ! To trifle with the name of God is to treat
with contempt not only all his intimate perfections,

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 1 65

but the very Godhead itself, for his name stands for
both his attributes and his essence.

But the most usual forms of profanity, and those
most commonly recognized as such, are known as
cursing and swearing. It may, however, be said that
these do not necessarily imply the use of the name
of God ; that men are said to curse and to swear
profanely when in swearing they invoke some other
name than that of God, and when in cursing they
omit all names. This is true ; but the ideas of God
and the spiritual world are implied in the very notion
of either a curse or an act of swearing. The mean-
ing of a curse is that the person employing it wishes,
whether seriously or not, to hand the person cursed
over to higher, sorer evil, than he, or any merely
human power, can inflict upon him. The curse is
an appeal from human judgments to the judgment
of God — a wish that a supernatural calamity may fall
on its object. It is true, we speak of the curse of a
country falling on a traitor, of the curse of widows
and orphans lighting on the heads of those that wrong
them, but the meaning is still the same. What is
intended to be expressed is the wish of widow and
orphan, of mothers and country, that the divine curse
may fall on the heads of traitors and oppressors. A
curse uttered, in whatever form, is an invocation of
the divine vengeance ; it is an entrance into the holy
place, a dealing with sacred things, and is only legiti-
mate when one has seen the Creator, and can say
with dreadful, awful solemnity, out of the Eternal's
mouth, as said the angel, " Curse Meroz, curse ye
bitterly the inhabitants thereof." Except in such a
case a curse is profane ; it is a contemptuous appeal

1 66 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

to what is holy ; it is an arm of flesh attempting to
snatch from God his bolts of wrath, or to force him
to hurl them in obedience to human passion or
human caprice.

Swearing admits only of a similar explanation. A
man may swear, as far as the verbal formula goes, by
heaven, or by the earth, or by his head, or by his coun-
try, or his favorite statesman, or even by some trifling
and unmeaning name. No matter, the religious realm
is still in any case invaded. God and heaven are still
appealed to. We mean to say that the oath in its very
nature is still, and always, a religious act. Does a
man cease to do a religious act who worships the sun,
for instance ? No, he has worshiped wrongly, but
still he has worshiped — and worship is an act of
religion ; and if he has done it in a bad spirit he has
only added profanity to idolatry. So, if a man swears,
by whatever vain name, it is an invocation of that
name, as of a God, to bear witness to the truth of
his statements. If it were only the name of a star; of
a political leader, or some unmeaning title belonging
to nobody, that is employed in the oath, still by vir-
ture of its being an oath the act is religious. He
calls on God, only that in this case he attempts to
fill the awful throne of deity by a creature, or by an
idle fiction, and thus adds idolatry to profanity.

Hear on this subject the pious and eloquent Bishop
Jeremy Taylor. Speaking of the sins of the tongue,
he says : " The first is common swearing, against
which Chrysostom spends twenty homilies, and
by the number and weight of arguments hath left
this testimony, that it is a foolish vice, but hard to be
cured ; infinitely unreasonable, but strangely prevail-

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME 1 67

ing ; almost as much without remedy as it is without
pleasure ; for it enters first by folly, and grows by
custom, and dwells with carelessness, and is nursed by
irreligion and want of the fear of God ; it profanes the
most holy things, and mingles dirt with the beams of
the sun — follies and trifling talk interweaved and knit
together with the sacred name of God ; it placeth the
most excellent things in the meanest and basest cir-
cumstances ; it brings the secrets of heaven into the
streets ; dead men's bones into the temple. Nothing
is a greater sacrilege than to prostitute the great
name of God to the petulancy of an idle tongue, and
blend it as an expletion to fill up the emptiness of a
weak discourse."

We are not, however, allowed to imagine that curs-
ing and swearing exhaust the crime of profanity.
Many a person who respects himself too much to in-
dulge in formal profanity, whose face would take on
a crimson glow if he should be betrayed into a pro-
fane oath, has nevertheless his very spirit and temper
thoroughly pervaded by profanity. That is, sacred
things lie lightly upon his mind. He accustoms him-
self to a contemptuous treatment of them. He
frequently gives a jocular sense to a passage of
Scripture ; he puns its sacred names ; he gets up a
ludicrous interpretation of portions of sacred history ;
he makes prophets and apostles to play the harlequin,
and has a genius for profane jokes in general. It is
contended that this may all be done without con-
scious guilt, without a sense of moral and religious
inconsistency. The plea may be true, but only makes
the case worse — a thousand times worse. How pro-
fane must be that mind, how lightly must it esteem

1 OS THE NEW LIFE DA WNINQ.

God and his ordinances and word, to be able to treat
them as mere playthings ! to put on the sacred habili-
ments and wear them as the dress of a clown ! to
turn the altars of the Church, in his prurient fancy,
at least into, the ring of the circus! The contempt
of sacred things, in such a case, is not a temporary
fit, but a regular induration ; the gambols of the pro-
fane spirit are performed over the crisp surface of a
seared conscience. Beware, my friends, of the day
when you can make a joke out of holy things, or can
laugh at such a joke by another. Profanity in such
a case is so old and stultified as to have forgotten its
own existence ; it has grown deaf under the strain
of its own laughter. Hear Jeremy Taylor on this
point. He says : " Above all the abuses which eve."
dishonored the tongues of men, nothing more de-
serves the whip of an exterminating angel, or the
stings of scorpions, than profane jesting, which is
a bringing of the spirit of God to partake of the fol-
lies of a man ; as if it were not enough for a man to be
a fool, but the wisdom of God must be brought into
those horrible scenes. He that makes a jest of the
Scriptures or holy things plays with the thunder,
and kisses the mouth of the cannon just as it belches
fire and death ; he stakes heaven at a spurnpoint, and
trips cross and pile whether ever he shall see the
face of God or no ; he laughs at damnation, while he
had rather lose God than lose his jest."

Profane swearing and cursing and jesting with
holy things, then, whether in anger or in mirth,
whether conscious of the crime or utterly oblivious
of it, is contempt of God and divine things. It is
the creature putting himself on an equality with the

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 1 69

Creator, or rather above him, and presuming to make
faces at him. Where the profanity is mere sport, it
is the creature performing a comic dance among the
glories of divine wisdom, and kicking them about as
so much antiquated lumber. Where the profanity is
angry, or the curses and oaths, or the criticisms of
the divine word, appear to be earnest, it is an effort
to eject God from his throne, and fill it with weak-
ness, and filth, and ignorance.

And is it needful to show that this contempt for
holy things, ay, for God himself, is a crime ? And
yet our streets and places of resort are full of pro-
fanity. " By reason of swearing the land mourn-
ec.h." If we would see the intense wickedness and
criminality of profanity, considered as contempt for
whatever is sacred, we must look at the divine law, in
which it is forbidden : " Thou shalt not take the name
of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not
hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain."
This, we have seen, embraces the whole subject ; for
whatever makes light of sacred things, of the things
of God, makes light of God himself, and thus takes
in vain, treats with levity, his awful, glorious name,
and his holy, blessed being, expressed by his name.
Now, this third commandment is of equal dignity
and authority with any of the other nine. The man
who murders or robs, or slanderously and basely lies,
or commits uncleanness, is not, according to this
law, a greater sinner than the man who by word or
deed, in jest or earnest, makes light of sacred things.
Among men who estimate the heinousness of sin
only by the mischief or injury which it manifestly
does to their interests, murder, theft, and falsehood

1 70 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

are great crimes, and profanity only a foible. But
when God delivered the Ten Commandments from
Sinai, we are not told that the thunder rolled more
loudly, or that the lightning flashed more fiercely, or
that the mountain shook more terrifically, after the
utterance, "Thou shalt not kill," or after, "Thoushalt
not steal," or " Thou shalt not bear false witness,"
than it did after, " Thou shalt not take the name
of the Lord thy God in vain."

Nay, there is following the last-named law a terrible
threat which does not follow either of the others. To
protect the sanctity of the holy name, and of all re-
lating to it, it is said, "for the Lord will not hold him
guiltless that taketh his name in vain." This looks
as though there were a higher than usual sanctity
attached to this commandment, and a deeper crimi-
nality to its violation, than to either of the others
quoted. Indeed, this is the reason why this distinc-
tion should be made.

To break one command is indeed " to be guilty
of all," for the law is a whole, and the spirit which
violates it is hostile to the holiness which consti-
tutes its unity. Every part of the law represents the
divine authority over men, and he that does violence
to it in any part has assailed that authority as a whole.
But particular laws protect particular interests : for
example, the law forbidding stealing protects property,
and that against murder protects life. But what shall
we say of that against profanity? We answer, It aims
to protect the rights of God himself. What is the
Divine government, what becomes of it, if reverence
for God himself is wanting ? Why, the whole fabric
tumbles into wreck. If God, who gives the command-

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. \J\

merits, is not honored, revered, worshiped, adored,
his law must share the fate to which he himself must
submit.

The other nine commandments hang on this.
Reverence for the Divine name is the very spirit of
obedience, and profanity thus attacks virtue and
morality at their very foundations. God's law rests
on God, and it is only possible to honor that law
when we rightly honor God himself. That honor
gone, the foundation is gone, and the whole structure
falls, or stands in mid-air, the product of a dream.
Thus whenever a person curses, or swears, or makes
light of sacred things, he is virtually insulting not
only the very conception of morality, but the Holy
Being who makes it possible.

Still further : If the decalogue is anywhere in Script-
ure republished with greater light and more awful
sanctions, it is in our Lord's Sermon on the Mount.
And there again we find profanity forbidden, and
made part of the same chain on which are linked all
the great crimes.

Indeed, it is quite remarkable that the one sin which
our Lord has pronounced unpardonable, namely, what
is known as "the sin against the Holy Ghost," what-
ever may be its peculiar character, certainly partakes
of the nature of profanity. The Jews had attributed
the miracles of Christ to Beelzebub, the prince of
devils ; our Saviour declared this to be blasphemy
against the Holy Ghost, which had no forgiveness
either on earth or in heaven. And the Evangelist
declares Jesus to have said this because they charged
him with having an unclean spirit, with having a
devil. Their crime, therefore, whatever else it was,

172 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

contained a high degree of profanity ; it abused most
basely what was most holy. It not merely dragged
Christ's act down to the ordinary level of a human
transaction, it profaned it further by making it the
work of a demon. So that the very highest sin
known to the Bible seems to be only a modification
of that with which the idle, thoughtless swearer is
daily and hourly loading down his guilty and wretch-
ed soul.

But we propose to show that, radically and fearfully
criminal as profanity is — assailing, as it does, the di-
vine authority, and wantonly insulting the very God-
head himself — this terrible crime is fashionable. We
do not mean that fashionable people display it as they
do their dress, equipage, and jewels, but we do mean
that in the sense of wide prevalence it is more fash-
ionable than fashion itself. There are more people
addicted to profanity, even in its vulgar forms of
cursing and swearing, than there are who keep up
with the fashions, as commonly understood.

' It is the universal vice of all the degraded classes.
It would be easier to find in these classes states-
men and philosophers— ay, almost easier to find
an angel — than one who is not profane. But to
a large extent the very highest classes share this
crime with the most degraded. We have had Con-
gressmen by the quantity, Senators and Governors
of States by the score, who were as familiar with
profanity as with cards and the bottle. I myself
have heard a Senator swear profanely in the chief
room of the President's house at Washington. The
House of National Representatives and the Senate
chamber have been desecrated by profanity in num-

PBOFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 173

berless instances. It has not been long since a
member of the lower house uttered maudlin curses
in his seat in the Capitol. People were disgusted,
but not surprised. But a short time has passed
since, in company with another minister of the
Gospel and several gentlemen high in position, all
of whom were Christians, I went on board one of
our ships of war. The ministers were introduced in
their character, as ministers ; the commander of the
ship knew, therefore, what he was about, and yet his
whole discourse was thoroughly soaked in the broad-
est, coarsest profanity. The worst pirate could not
have outdone this representative of our Christian
navy in the foulness or the frequency of his oaths.

But why multiply instances ? From the highest
functionaries to the very boys in the street, profanity
is found prevailing ; and even many Church members,
who are not guilty after the vulgar sort, are in the
habit of breaking the third commandment by the
levity with which they treat holy things.

Now, is all this purely arbitrary? It has sometimes
been so alleged. It has been said that profanity holds
out no temptation to indulgence ; that there is really
no inducement to it which can operate upon our na-
ture ; that sin here is purely willful ; that while Satan,
fishing for the souls of men, baits his hook skillfully
for other sinners, for the swearer he has only to let
down the naked hook. With this view we do not
agree. We believe that this sin prevails for the same
reason as others, namely, that it has a root in our
nature, an element there to which it is congenial.
Men must become more corrupt than most sinners
are before they love sin just because it is sin, just

1 74 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

because it is offensive to God. The true state of the
case in regard to sin and men's love of it, at least
until they become well-nigh demons, is that they
commit it as a means of gratification, and not out
of naked and arbitrary hostility to God. This is as
true of swearing as of other sins ; there are tempta-
tions to it ; in no other way can its prevalence be
reasonably accounted for. Let us see.

Who has not frequently reached a point of mental
excitement at which he felt the feebleness of all the
ordinary forms of speech, and struggled for some
adequate expression of what he felt ? Now the oath,
the curse, the ideas of eternity — of heaven, of hell,
and of the Supreme Being — are the grandest and
most sacred and fearful of which we have knowledge ;
and if rage possesses the sinful soul, to express itself
fully, to make its utterances fire, it rushes at once to
what men concede to be the strongest words — so
strong, so high, as only to be fit to be spoken with
sacred intent.

The same is true if the excitement be a pleasur-
able one. Oaths and sacred epithets seem to the
depraved the only adequate expression of high ad-
miration. The corrupt heart and tongue only find
satisfaction and rest when they have used sacred
words for their profane purposes. In words it is
impossible to go higher, and to exhaust the strength
of the language they have indulged in sin.

This observation will account for the profanity of
employers and commanders in giving orders to those
under their control. They have an excited sense of
the importance of the work to be done, and of the
sluggishness of their workmen ; and, instead of rely-

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 1 75

ing upon a due and steady exercise of legitimate au-
thority, they try to crowd power into their orders,
and hence use the strongest words — that is, the sacred
ones ; but still they are only the strongest for the
expression of their own feelings, not for moving
others. Thus it is that if a profane man wishes to
express his resentment in the highest degree his
strong word is a curse, which contains the super-
natural element ; if he wishes to assert strongly,
he must confirm his assertion by sacred allusions ;
if he wishes to praise extravagantly, Jehovah and
heaven must lend him epithets ; and, even in the
common conversations of the profane, the emphatic
and sealing words are uniformly the oaths and curses.
True, this profanity, which originates in the demand
for the strongest expressions, grows by and by into a
habit, which, being once formed, operates in uniform
connection with the excited mental states, and some-.
times without excitement.

But the fact of this excitement creating this de-
mand for strong words is no apology for profanity,
nor the slightest palliation of it. It is no more a
justification than malice is of murder, or covetous-
ness of theft, or jealousy of lying. The profane
man has such a disregard, such a contempt, of God,
that the only use he makes of him is to emphasize
his excitement, and to give adequate expression to
merely earthly feelings.

There are two classes — if classes they be called —
to which the fashionable profanity does not reach ; we
refer to the clergy and to respectable females. The
Gospel minister, by his very calling, is supposed to
frown on every form of profanity, and if the char-

1 76 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

acter known as a gentleman chances to swear in a
minister's presence he promptly asks pardon, not of
God, but of the minister, for his offense. So cor-
rupt is the gentleman that the vilest sin with him is
transformed into an act of mere impoliteness. In the
same way so-called gentlemen treat females. They
swear before none except those of their own family.
It is easy to understand why ministers, and indeed
all Christians, should be free from this sin. It is
their business and their profession to oppose sin ; but
why is it that respectable women are not profane ?
Why is it considered inconsistent with the character
of a lady to curse or swear ? They share human
nature with the other sex. They enjoy no natural
exemption from depravity. The reason may, perhaps,
be found in part in the fact that they do not mix so
freely with the world ; but we are inclined to think
that the principal cause is to be found in the con-
sciousness of Christian nations that the mission of
woman as mother, wife, daughter, sister, is sacred ;
that, standing, as she does, at the fountain-head of
domestic and social morals, she must not be con-
taminated, she must not communicate the infection
of profanity to the coming generations. Wicked,
corrupt, as the world is now, can you imagine what it
would be if our wives and mothers and sisters and
daughters cursed and swore like drunken sailors ?
But after all, with many respectable women, their
not being profane is, like their not smoking, only a
matter of fashion. They are not profane because it
is not the fashion for them, just as men are profane
in some cases because it is the fashion.

Finally, on this question of fashion, what a dis-

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE CRIME. 1 77

grace is it that such a crime — so gross, so groveling,
so heinous, so undermining to national and individual
morality, so sacrilegious, so insulting to God and so
destructive of all religion — should be fashionable, and
in such a sense that a man may curse and swear and
profane the name of God, and yet hold up his impi-
ous head, and pass for a gentleman !

But, last of all, what can be done to check and
restrain this odious and abominable crime ? We
answer, First, and highest of all, our souls must
cherish the profoundest, the loftiest, the most ador-
ing reverence for God. We must feel as the cherubim
in the prophet's vision will teach us to do. Those pure
intelligences as they stood before the throne vailed
their faces with their wings, and uttered their awful
sense of the divine excellence by crying, " Holy,
holy, holy is the Lord God of Sabaoth."

" Thee while the first archangel sings,
He hides his face behind his wings."

Thus should we feel toward our ever-glorious
Father, the ruler of the world.

Instead of using his name merely to point and
emphasize our common discourse, let us emphasize
his name in another way, thinking of it and mention-
ing it only with the emphasis of reverence and awe.
Let the names of the Supreme Being only be used
when needful, and always with a high sense of their
sacredness, whether in the house of God or out of
it. Let the Scriptures have from us the religious
respect which is appropriate to their divine character.
Let a Bible be handled not superstitiously, and yet

not exactly like another book ; let no jokes be made

12

1 7 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

upon its contents. Whatever else common wit may
play with, let it not touch inspired wisdom. Let the
house of God, with all its services, be regarded and
treated with religious gravity. Let us give men in
authority to know that they cannot be profane with-
out being accused of it. Let police officers, and all
executors of law, know that it is their business to
restrain, not to commit, profanity ; that there are
laws on all the statute books of the country making
profanity a crime, and that an officer who is himself
profane, or allows profanity to pass unreproved in
others, shall no longer wear his bright buttons or
bear his staff of office.

Turn away from profane books and newspapers,
and if a man is guilty of profanity in your presence,
instead of smiling, or even keeping your countenance
unchanged, let him know that you are at least as
jealous of the honor of God as you are of that of
your wife, or daughter, or sister. What a contempt-
ible spectacle is a Christian standing by and laughing
at insults offered to high Heaven, thus playing the
double part of traitor and coward !

My dear friends, let us honor the name of God ; it
is holy and reverend. Look up at the sun — it is a
dark shadow of God's glory ; hear the roar of the
sea and the thunder— they are the whispers of his
majesty. Look up at the great rounded sky — it is
too small for his tent. Think of the holy angels —
they are unclean in his sight. Remember that he
made you to imitate and reflect his purity : your
heart to glow with his love ; your mind to teem with
his wisdom ; your tongue to speak, not profanity, but
as the oracles of God.

PROFANITY A FASHIONABLE GRIME. 179

A friend of mine, a pastor, knelt in prayer with
the wife and family of a wicked man. Meanwhile
the husband entered, and was angry. He sternly
told the minister never again to attempt such a thing
in his house. " Why/' said the minister, " I have
heard men pray in your store without reproof from
you." " What do you mean ? " said the man. " Why,
I have heard them pray to God to damn their souls,
and you made no objection." - This was true. Pro-
fanity is the devil's way of worshiping God. It is
the ritual of his religion. Let us never defile our
lips or hearts by indulging it.

1 80 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

VI,

THE HIGHER LIFE.

But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. Amen. —
2 Pet. hi, 18.

IN every description of life, while it is healthy there
must be progress. If a tree is planted, it must
either grow or perish. If its life is good for any thing
it must show itself in the growth of the tree. A bird
bursts from the egg-shell because it has grown either
too large or too strong to be longer confined in it,
and if it lives it grows both in plumage and in flesh ;
it develops its powers of motion both of foot and of
wing.

The same is true among men, not only in the
physical sense, but in relation to mind, morals, art,
science, and religion. The young apprentice at some
mechanical employment in his first efforts, perhaps,
spoils the materials he was to have put into the forms
of his new art ; his hand is yet unskilled. But, con-
tinuing his exertions, he adapts his muscles to the
work, and the results gradually appear in better
shape. He advances ; he grows in the knowledge
of his trade. The same holds in regard to education,
in the usual sense of the word. What a progress

THE HIGHER LIFE. 1 8 1

between the labor of learning the alphabet, and the
heights and depths of science and literature ! what
growth ! what advancement ! This is indicated by
the apostle, where he says : " When I was a child I
spake as a child, I thought as a child, I understood
as a child ; but when I became a man I put away
childish things."

Or look into the department of high art. What
a distance between the daubs of the first untaught
effort of a genius in painting and the master-strokes
of the same hand when it becomes practiced ! In
the experience of the greatest painter there is every
degree of perfection, from the humblest to the highest.
Each successive effort of his training period rises
superior to the preceding, until, with untold toil and
care and study, he reaches the topmost round of the
ladder. And he stands on that eminence because
he took the first step and then persevered in the
path on which he had entered.

To this rule of advancement toward completeness
the Christian life furnishes no exception. In religion,
as every-where else, the beginnings are feeble. They
are like the new germ bursting out of the hull of the
seed ; like the young bird, unfledged, and hence un-
fitted for lofty, and indeed any, flights ; like the infant,
needing milk rather than meat, requiring to creep,
or to walk timidly, guided and supported by other
hands than its own ; like the artist, with the first boy-
ish efforts in chalk or slate pencil — the true artist
instinct maybe revealed, but in rough and straggling
touches.

The Christian is the possessor of a new life as soon
as he is born into the kingdom of God. He is a child

1 82 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINQ.

and an heir of heaven! But his life is as yet only-
germinal, infantile ; he has yet to learn the depths
and heights — aye, and the dangers — of the new calling
upon which he has entered. Understand us : the
change is great, very great, though the new life be
small and feeble ; the change is from death to life,
from the rule of sin to the dominion of God in the
soul. It is so great that the man is now a child of
God, an heir of heaven, and to die would be to enter .
into eternal blessedness. Hence all God's people
are called in the New Testament saints, and saints
are holy ; but the saintly life is just begun in the case
of the newly regenerated Christian. Henceforth he
is to grow in grace ; to become more and more a new
creature ; to put off more and more the old man, which
is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, and to put
on more and more the new man, which after God is
created in righteousness and true holiness ; to forget
the things which are behind and to press toward the
things which are before ; to leave the principles of
the doctrine of Christ, and to go on to perfection, that
is, to the higher stages of the Christian life.

To these higher stages of advancement in the life
of God I now call your attention.

The religious life may be said to begin in the soul
of an awakened adult person when he first resolves
to be a Christian. In that resolution is contained
the very fundamental element of repentance. He
who in his inmost soul resolves to turn to God is a
true penitent, and a true penitent is a person over
whom the heavenly angels clap their pinions and
sing songs of gladness. But a simple resolution to
repent, though it be virtually the beginning of the

THE HIGHER LIFE. 1 83

new life, does not necessarily involve the comfort of
assurance, though it does involve a measure of faith.
No man can sincerely come to God unless he be-
lieves in him. No man can come to Jesus as a
Saviour, and be in earnest, without believing in him
as a Saviour and Redeemer. If he did not believe
at all, how could he come ? How could he repent,
unless he felt that he had offended, and offended
the Saviour whose pardon and mercy he seeks ?
But while he has faith to bring him, weeping and
sorrowing, to Christ, he may not have faith enough
to dry his tears, faith enough to make him happy,
faith enough to bring assurance. In other words,
he may be justified, pardoned, have a new nature,
and yet not have assurance. Mr. Wesley gives it as
his matured view that justifying faith is not assur-
ance, nor necessarily connected therewith, because,
says he, "if justifying faith necessarily implies such
an explicit assurance of pardon, then every one who
has it not, and every one so long as he has it not,
is under the wrath and under the curse of God. But
this," he adds, "is a supposition contrary to Scripture,
as well as to experience."

Now there are many persons in the Church, per-
haps the majority of true Christians, who are sub-
stantially in this state. Either they never had an
assurance of pardon and adoption, or, having had it,
they have allowed it to slip away from them. Mul-
titudes of such have a true Christian life and a true
Christian experience, and proofs of a renewed nature ;
they love God and his ways, and his house and serv-
ice, and his people ; they have a tender conscience,
watchful to scrupulousness ; but they are sorely given

1 84 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING .

to doubts, and live without assurance. It may be
that there are times in the experience of some of
them when they feel themselves rising up toward the
region of blessed certainty, but moments of coolness
bring back their fears in full force.

Now, one of the leading forms of the higher Chris-
tian life consists in breaking away from, and rising
up out of, the shadowy regions of these doubts into
the clear and radiant light of permanent assurance.
This is what we may properly call the life of faith.
Not that the Christian had no faith before. If he
was a Christian he had faith — saving faith, justifying*
faith — but not assuring. faith ; or if he had enjoyed
assurance once, or still did occasionally, he had not
habitually lived at that height ; assurance had not
become the habit of his life. Now, however, in what
we call the life of faith, the word of God is realized
as living and present truth ; the soul comes to take
it as if it had heard God himself speak out of
heaven. There it is, written. Nothing more is
wanted. They want no signs, no superstitious emo-
tions ; there is the word. The soul, in the fullness
of faith, says, It is true, and it is mine ; Christ is
mine, and his promises are yea and amen to me.

This is indeed an enviable life, a blessed life, and
we cannot see why it may not be the privilege of
every Christian. But, after all, we have here the
higher life in only one aspect, in regard to only one
Christian grace, namely, that of faith. Here is a man
who like Moses, or almost like Moses, endures as
seeing Him who is invisible. But does this high and
glorious faith secure an equal completeness in the
other traits of Christian character ? We answer,

THE HIGHER LIFE. 1 85

Not of necessity, by any means, and yet many people
would call this state by the name of entire sanctifi-
cation. It is indeed a state in which the soul feels
free from condemnation, free from all sense of guilt ;
that all its transgression is laid on the Lamb of
God. that taketh away the sin of the world ; a state
in which it may sing :

" O love, thou bottomless abyss!

My sins are swallowed up in thee ;
Covered is my unrighteousness,

Nor spot of guilt remains on me :
While Jesus' blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries."

It realizes perpetually a heavenly Father's forgiving
love. But yet alongside of this complete and ever
joyful faith there may be many unsanctified tempers.
As an illustration here, take Luther, the great
Reformer. Was there ever a more abiding, a nobler,
a loftier, a more heroic faith ? From the time when
the old monk taught him how by faith to draw forth
the holy and blessed substance from the Apostle's
Creed, and realize that he was the son of God, how
he ever gloried in his adoption as a child of God !
With what a mighty and world-shaking faith he met
in spiritual conflict the powers of popery, burnt pa-
pal bulls, stood before the Emperor, wrote, preached,
prayed, sung, married, lived, and cheered universal
Protestantism with his holy and blessed trust, down
to the very end of his life. And yet he would be a
bold man who would deny that Martin Luther had a
high and fiery temper, that he was abusive and harsh
to his enemies, that his words were frequently such

1 86 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

as did not become a Christian. Indeed, this was his
ordinary spirit in his controversies.

Such facts as these repeat themselves constantly
in the history of the Church. They occur among us,
as they did among the Reformers. You can easily
recall to mind Christians of easy faith who seem
always assured, whose tempers would be none the
worse for mending, who hold to their money with a
miser's grasp, who are uncharitable in their feelings
toward those who oppose them, and who show that
uncharitableness in harsh judgments and in the cir-
culation of false stories. Their faith is genuine, and
their joy is real and Christian, but they are poorly
sanctified.

Such a man now comes to my mind. He was an
untaught, rugged soul in a great giant frame. He
was full of faith, and had much of the Divine spirit ;
he was noble in his liberality, giving away his hun-
dreds every year to the cause of God and benevo-
lence ; he seemed never to have the shadow of a doubt
of his relation to his heavenly Father, and he had
not, for with him to seem was to be. His nature was
eminently truthful. But yet if he was not invited
forward, or if he fancied himself in any way over-
looked, he would give the pastor one finger in shak-
ing hands, and turn his face away from him in
silence, and pout, indeed, perhaps for weeks. His
faith, like Luther's, was mighty, and his assurance
perennial ; but his tempers, like those of the great
Reformer, were still in part unsanctified. He was
good, but, like the sun, he had his spots, and they
were spots upon his moral nature ; they soiled the
purity and marred the loveliness of his character.

THE HIGHER LIFE. 187

But yet, whatever may be the degree of advance-
ment in holiness, where this faith exists, this blessed
assurance, this divine trust in God, this realization
of the present truth of all his most holy words, this
complete and abiding persuasion of the love of Christ
toward the individual soul ; wherever this is, we say,
there is a noble form of the higher life, one toward
which every one should aspire. But we see plainly
that such a life of faith does not necessarily imply
the very highest degree of sanctification.

Another form of the higher Christian life is not
only, like the life of faith, related to sanctification,
but synonymous with it. It consists in the cultiva-
tion of what are called the graces, or rather the fruits,
of the Spirit — that is, all the holy tempers of the
soul demanded by Christianity.

What now is entire sanctification ? It has two
meanings — it means, first, the complete dedication of
the soul, and all appertaining to it, to the service and
glory of God. This is sometimes called consecration.
This we suppose to be meant by the apostle when
he says, " I beseech you, brethren, by the mercies of
God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice,
holy and acceptable unto God." This dedication, or
consecration, is essential to becoming a Christian,
and, as far as we can see, to remaining a Christian.
For if any soul should withdraw any thing that he
has or is from God, and continue to withhold it, he
withdraws his submission to God, and ceases to be
his. In this sense, therefore — that, namely, of dedi-
cating ourselves holy to God — every Christian must
be entirely sanctified, and sanctified every day, again
and again.

1 88 TEE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

But more than this is meant by entire sanctifica-
tion in Scripture. The second meaning of it is this :
When we have thus given self up to God, and feel
that, in the sense of being consecrated, we are entirely
sanctified, we find that much still remains to be done
in our souls. That which we have thus given, and
given, too, as fully as we can, is very imperfect, a
poor maimed sacrifice, not only because we are igno-
rant and liable to mistakes in judgment and the like,
but morally imperfect, in temper, in feeling, in motive ;
that we are troubled with evil, or sinful tendencies,
which are constantly working across the texture and
bent of our renewed nature, and holding it back in its
struggles toward perfection.

Now, by entire sanctification, in the highest sense,
we can mean nothing less, and the Scriptures can
mean nothing less, than such an advancement of
the soul as results in a complete poise of all the
affections and passions, a complete mastery of all
the appetites and propensities, and a perfection of all
the fruits of the Spirit — such as love, joy, meekness,
gentleness, goodness, faith, patience, and the like.
It is a perfect fulfillment of the law, and entire free-
dom from sin. Sanctification in its lowest sense
means dedication ; in its highest sense it means
holiness, and entire sanctification therefore means
entire holiness ; that is, a whole holiness — a holiness
without a flaw — a perfect holiness.

So much is clearly implied in such passages of
Scripture as that petition in the Lord's prayer : " Thy
will be done on earth as it is in heaven ;" and again,
" Be ye perfect even as your Father which is in
heaven is perfect." This is the image held up before

THE HIGHER LIFE. 1 89

us in the Scriptures. As a final law, nothing lower
could be demanded of as. If any thing lower were
demanded it would be tantamount to God's permit-
ting sin — it would be God authorizing the violation
of the highest law of holiness.

But does any human being in all history, except the
Saviour, come up to this mark ? Does any one do
the will of God on earth as perfectly as the angels in
heaven ? Is any one as perfect in holiness as the
all-holy God, whom we are commanded perfectly to
resemble in this respect ? Every one at once an-
swers, No, that were impossible. All sober, orthodox,
not to say sane, theologians give the same answer.
All our own standards, even while contending ear-
nestly for entire sanctification in a certain sense,
clearly assert that the holiest man on earth, judged by
the perfect law of God, is still a transgressor.

And has God any other law than his perfect one ?
Does he pare down his law to suit our imperfections,
and then say we are not sinners because we have
lived up to an imperfect law ? There is no such
intimation in the Scriptures. Judged by this law the
most laborious of the apostles, who visited the third
heaven and heard there unutterable things, declared
himself the chief of sinners, and the noblest of saints
in modern times have humbly adopted the apostle's
confession.

Mr. Wesley, on his death-bed, over and over again
repeated,

" I the chief of sinners am,
But Jesus died for me. "

Not " I the chief of sinners was, before my holy state
set in," but " I the chief of sinners am" This was a

1 90 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

favorite expression with him. In this high sense,
therefore, of not being in conflict with the law, of
being sinless as an angel or as Adam, of being pure
in the eye of the perfect divine law, there is no such
thing as entire sanctiflcation among men.

But is entire sanctiflcation therefore a mere dream ?
Does it mean nothing on the pages of the Bible for
the Christian believer ? Far from it ; it means much
— its meaning is glorious. It is set before him as
the goal— the mark of the prize of his high calling —
toward which he is ever to aspire and ever to ap-
proach, and which he relatively and comparatively,
but not absolutely, achieves. The holy law de-
mands the whole of it of him ; but when his earnest,
holy soul falls short, as it always will, the blood of
Christ covers him, and his relative perfection is
accepted just as if it were absolute.

But O, how high may be his attainments ! What
depths of humility, of forbearance, of patience, of
meekness, of love, even of our enemies, may be
reached ! What elevation above ambition, above
pride, above avarice, may be achieved ! What supe-
riority to fleshly lusts, to spiritual indolence, to hatred,
to revenge, to all the power of temptation, may be
attained ! No man but a madman, indeed, is exempt
from temptation ; but, better than that, he may rise
above it when it comes ; he may be secure in it,
though not from it.

The soul may proceed in this sanctiflcation until
the passions glow with the fire of the Divine love ;
until it becomes the meat and the drink to do the
Father's will ; until grace becomes, not the second,
but the first, the stronger nature ; until heaven shall

THE HIGHER LIFE. 191

be established in the soul ; until we become genuinely
simple as little children ; until our renunciation of
Christ will be as unlikely, not to say as impossible, as
the fall of the tried and approved archangel.

But this growth up toward the image of God in
all holy affections, in gentleness, sweetness, and love,
does not necessarily imply the joyous life of faith
in the sense explained a while ago, just as the
joyous and assured life of faith does not necessarily
imply sanctified tempers. They do not require each
other ; they may exist apart. There is often a glori-
ous growth of grace, a noble advancement in holi-
ness, in souls that are too timid, almost, to say Abba,
Father. They sigh,

" O, that my Lord would count me meet
To wash the dear disciples' feet! "

and yet, though lacking the boldness of assuring
faith, they have a genuine faith, a real, a practical, and
mighty faith, that works by love and purifies the heart.
Look at Melanchthon — how timid as compared with
Luther's was his faith, and yet how sanctified were
his tempers as compared with Luther's ! In the
same Church which contained the rough, bold, good
man, of whom I have spoken, as living without a
cloud of doubt upon his horizon, there was an aged
saint, a Christian of sixty years,, standing and work-
ing. He was a most beautiful character, just as
much like the Apostle John as you could imagine a
modern saint to be like an inspired apostle. Evil
seemed to be extinct in him ; the graces of the Spirit
seemed to mantle his brow, and to adorn his char-
acter like rich, and fruitful, and clustering vines,

192 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

wreathing a noble column. As far as I could see
he was nearly faultless, and yet for the uses of per-
sonal comfort his faith was weak; he doubted his
own acceptance, he feared, he trembled ; he had
mighty bufferings of Satan to endure. His faith
had been sufficient to make him an earnest worker in
the Church for the whole of a long life, but still it
had not been sufficient to keep him assured. He
had not been a rejoicing Christian, like his less sancti-
fied but more confident brother in the same Church ;
but with all his timidity he illustrated a form of the
higher life.

But we have not separated the life of faith, in which
the soul enjoys perennial assurance, from the sancti-
fication of the tempers — completeness and soundness
of character from assurance — because such separa-
tion is necessary ; but for the purpose of showing
that the life of faith does not necessarily imply a
high degree of holiness, and that a high degree of
holiness does not necessarily suppose a perfect faith.
A faith may be real and practically powerful without
rising to assurance, and sanctification may be pro-
found and pervasive without the joy of a triumphant
faith.

But, although what we have called the life of faith
and a profound sanctification may exist apart, they
may also exist together, in the same life and character,
and this is doubtless the noblest form of the advanced
Christian life. Luther, in that case, drops his unruly
tempers, and joins with his powerful faith the meek-
ness and gentleness of Melanchthon ; and Melanchthon
rises above his timid fears, and unites the faith of
Luther to his own pure and beautiful Christian char-

THE HIGHER LIFE. 1 93

acter. The Apostle John weds his gentleness to the
boldness of Peter's faith, and Peter steadies his unre-
liable impetuosity by joining his ready faith to John's
loving meekness.

Indeed, these are the two sides of the one higher
Christian life. Each without the other is incomplete.
What we have designated as the life of faith, without
a corresponding sanctification of the tempers and
passions, is always in danger of degenerating into
spiritual pride, and of becoming such a faith as the
Apostle Paul warns against in I Cor. xiii — a faith
that can remove mountains and is yet without
charity.

Such a naked faith, however powerful and assured,
is under temptation of becoming boastful, and of
looking down on purer, holier people with contempt,
because they are not so confident and loud in their
professions. To illustrate : I knew a man of this
sort who usually gave his experience in love-feast
in this way : He rose, and, straightening himself to
his utmost height, he would begin by saying that he
had to thank God for a good deal of religion. He
refused to go to hear his pastor preach because he did
not profess religion exactly as he did. He claimed
boastfully that he knew more about religion than the
minister, and said that if the minister had been out
on the Washington road only one mile, and he him-
self had been all the way to Washington, then the
minister might know the road to the one-mile post
very well, but beyond that he knew better than the
minister. This, of course, was Pharisaism.

On the other hand, the profoundest holiness, the

most purified affections, the most completely molded

13

1 94 THE NE W LIFE LA WNING.

and beautiful Christian character, needs to sun itself,
and to find its joy in the bright daylight of assurance ;
otherwise it is in danger of growing sad, if not
gloomy; it loses the strength, the conscious power,
which a sense of divine favor would be sure to give
it. The true idea of the development of Christian
character is for faith and holiness to advance with
equal steps — then it is that faith works by love and
purifies the heart.

Another development of advanced Christian expe-
rience, and yet not another, is to be found in a life of
Christian labor and sacrifice. Assurance is an essen-
tial part of the highest Christian experience, and holy
tempers are equally so ; when the two unite to form
one character the life is one of joy and the character
one of beauty. But it would be a gross a wretched
mistake, to suppose that such a high state of experi-
ence and of inner life is to be regarded in the light
of a mere luxury — as though divine love were only
a sort of sacred titillation, a mere fire of scented wood
by which to warm and refresh the senses ; as though
the Church were a sort of spiritual confectionery estab-
lishment, where the children of the rich and glorious
Father were to sit all day long and eat candies.

Genuine faith united to genuine holiness fixes in
the soul an impulse answering to the word of the
Master, " Go work to-day in my vineyard ; " " Work
while it is called day." And the true development
of the inner, higher life is an outer one of work and
sacrifice. It does not wear itself out in good meet-
ings, but its meetings are the places where it re-
ceives fresh inspirations for work and sacrifice. Men
and women who have this higher life — this burning,

THE HIGHER LIFE.

195

assuring faith and this holiness of temper — are fitly
represented by Howard, who spent his life and his
fortune in going about doing good ; by such men as
the Baltimore Zaccheus, who gave all he made to the
Lord, and spent all his leisure moments in looking
up opportunities of benefiting the souls of men
around him ; and, also, by men and women in private
stations in life, who, with less means and fewer oppor-
tunities, do what they can to snatch souls from ruin,
and who freely and joyfully give their money for the
promotion of the welfare of men, both in soul and
body. If any one fancies that he has attained to
any degree of the higher life without this, Satan has
cheated him. He is following a mere jack-o'-lantern
into the bog of fanaticism, and he is destined to a
fearful surprise some of these days. Giving and
doing are the only proof of being. Here, then, is
what we understand by the higher life : first, the life
of faith, that is, of assurance, in which the soul not only
is once assured, but lives satisfied that God has accept-
ed him ; second, a life of great purity of affection, pas-
sion, temper, words, and deeds, when, notwithstanding
faith may be timid, and the soul suffers painful doubt ;
third, a life in which assurance and a high degree of
sanctification are united, so that confidence does not
degenerate into vain boasting and Pharisaism on the
one hand, or the holy soul sink into gloom on the
other, but when the radiant light of faith shines on the
modest and beautiful fruits of humility ; and fourthly,
where blended faith and inner holiness express their
combined force, not only in a sweet and charitable
spirit, but also in works, in sacrifices of time and
money and strength, for the good of mankind.

1 96 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINQ.

Such a holiness need not advertise itself; it will
be known and read of all men. It is humble — it will
not set itself above others, but will take the lowest
seat. It ever remembers, and that without labor,
for it is the prompting of a new nature, the words of
the apostle, " Let each esteem other better than
himself." It knows that a man is holy according
to what he is and does, and not according to what
he says respecting himself. For my own part I
never think the better of a man for his professions. I
judge by his life. That is the Saviour's test : " By
their fruits ye shall know them." My theory, my
motto, is, " Profess Christ, and live the amount of
your religion."

Finally, Does any one inquire how these high
attainments in the life divine are to be made ? I
answer, By growth. The child of God, like the
natural offspring, may be born in a moment ; but, like
the child, he must achieve spiritual manhood by the
process of growth. True Christian growth may be
more or less rapid, according to watchfulness, study
of Scripture, diligence, sacrifice, prayer; but, how-
ever rapid, it will still be growth. The Scriptures
tell of thousands converted in a single day ; but high
attainments are never, so far as I know, represented
as being thus made, but always as something gradu-
ally obtained. The Church groweth into a holy
temple of the Lord ; individual Christians are said
to grow up into Christ ; the Christian babes need
the sincere milk of the word, that they may grow
thereby ; the faith of Christians is said to grow
exceedingly ; the kingdom of God is like leaven
which a woman took and hid in three measures of

THE HIGHER LIFE. 197

meal until the whole was leavened. It spread gradu-
ally, and thus operated like a growth.

Indeed, necessarily, growth is the soul and the
meaning of the progress of any and every form of
life, and the Christian who does not grow holier
will never on earth be holier. By means of this
growth the child of God may vie in holiness with
the apostles and martyrs of past ages. But he will
never reach the point where he can refuse to pray,
" Forgive us our trespasses ; " where he can refuse
to join in the confession of the sacramental service,
" We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins ; "
where he can stand before the most holy law of God,
and say that he is without sin. But we may reach
a point, not merely of high faith, but of deep saintly
humility, when we will feel that we are less than the
least of all saints, and at the same time feel that we
are complete in Christ, that his grace fills us with
holy, perfect love; when his service will be perfect
freedom and joy, and when his atonement — sinful
though we be before the holy law — will secure us per-
petual pardon and redemption, so that we may say,

" Jesus, thy blood and i-ighteousness
My beauty are, my glorious dress ;
'Mid naming worlds in these arrayed,
With joy shall I lift up my head."

198 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

VII.

THE TRANSFIGURATION.*

AT the ninth chapter of St. Luke, beginning with
the twenty-eighth verse and closing with the
thirty-sixth, we have an account of the transfiguration
of Christ : " And it came to pass about an eight
days after these sayings, he took Peter and John and
James, and went up into a mountain to pray. And
as he prayed, the fashion of his countenance was
altered, and his raiment was white and glistering.
And, behold, there talked with him two men, which
were Moses and Elias who appeared in glory, and
spake of his decease which he should accomplish at
Jerusalem. But Peter and they that were with him
were heavy with sleep : and when they were awake,
they saw his glory, and the two men that stood with
him. And it came to pass, as they departed from
him, Peter said unto Jesus, Master, it is good for us
to be here : and let us make three tabernacles ; one
for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias : not
knowing what he said. While he thus spake, there
came a cloud, and overshadowed them : and they
feared as they entered into the cloud. And there
came a voice out of the cloud, saying, This is my
beloved Son : hear him. And when the voice was

* Preached at the Morristown Camp-meeting, Tuesday, Septem-
ber 1, 1868.

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 1 99

past, Jesus was found alone. And they kept it close,
and told no man in those days any of those things
which they had seen."

Of course we do not propose to attempt an expo-
sition this morning of the whole of this most wonder-
ful and glorious passage of Scripture, and equally
glorious passage in the life of our Saviour. Perhaps,
if we had time, the whole exposition might, at least
from our point of view, be threaded upon these points :
First, the presence in which the great transaction
narrated in the text took place — Peter, James, John,
Moses, and Elias ; secondly, the exercise which
ushered it in — namely, prayer ; third, the significance
of the great fact itself — namely, the transfiguration ;
what was the meaning of the glory that burst out
from the person of Christ, and shone so brightly?
what does it prefigure ? what does it represent as
a permanent thing in the economy of the Church of
God ? and, fourth, the effect upon the disciples —
they were filled with wonder ; they were cast down
with astonishment ; they fell on their faces. When
Peter said, " Master, it is good for us to be here," it
was as if he had said, " We have got so far on the
way to heaven, and glory has come out from its gate
to astonish us by the view. We have lost the atmos-
phere of the world, and left it behind us. If we
cannot go up now, let us, at least, never go back
again. Let us here abide."

The exercise which ushered in the transfiguration
was prayer. There, on the top of the mountain, in
the sole presence of his disciples, while he prayed,
there came out two persons from the spiritual world.
A question suggests itself, no doubt, to many a

200 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

thoughtful reader here : How could our Saviour
pray, seeing he was divine ? what was the need for
it ? what propriety in it ? what possibility of it as a
reality ? The answer to that suggestion is, that if
our Saviour might be supposed not to pray because
he is divine, he must pray because he is human as
well If his being divine implies his possession of
all the attributes of divinity, his being human implies
equally his possession of all the essential attributes
of humanity. He was troubled — sin apart — like other
men ; he sorrowed, and wanted, and longed, like other
men. So that our Saviour's prayer was a real thing,
and came out of his heart ; it was the expression of
his troubles, the utterance of his great and pure
human longings. And when we are told that our
Saviour prayed (and especially when we have his
prayers recounted to us) in the garden of Gethsem-
ane when he said, " My soul is exceeding sorrow-
ful, even unto death ; " and when, as he fell down on
his face, he prayed that if it were possible this cup
might pass away from him, that was not something
simply communicated as a mere example of prayer —
an example in form and not in reality — it was the
expression of the true humanity of our Saviour in the
deepest trouble ; it was real prayer.

Nor are we to suppose that the word prayer neces-
sarily includes at any time sin. It does not necessarily
even include confession and a petition for help in
our weaknesses ; it does not always imply utter
prostration, or any degree of prostration ; it may
consist — seeing that prayer in its very essence is
intercourse between the creature and the Creator —
without any sense of weakness. Prayer was the

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 201

form of communion between the unfallen Adam and
his glorious Creator in the garden of Eden. The com-
munion of heaven between the ever-blessed Father
and the spirits of just men made perfect is, therefore,
in a sense, prayer. It is intercourse between the
finite and the Infinite ; and we know, too, that prayer
becomes more and more the life of a man as he be-
comes holier and holier on earth. When he passes
away, he only ceases to be weak and sinful ; he only
ceases to feel the burden of want ; he does not cease
to hold communion with God. Prayer is thanks-
giving ; it is praise ; it is the utterance of our joy. So
that when we are told that our Saviour prayed, we
have but a recognition of the great truth that prayer
is the universal language of communion between the
exalted and pure soul and its God, as well as the
utterance of the wants of a soul that feels the pres-
sure of its sin.

That was a very remarkable relation, too, between
our Saviour's praying and the glory that shed out
from his person, when from within there came out
the glittering dazzle upon his garments, that more
than sunlight brightness upon his countenance, the
glory of God now literally shining in the face of
Jesus Christ. There was a lesson in that. No doubt
it was meant to teach us the relation between medita-
tion and prayer on the one hand, and our spiritual and
internal transfiguration on the other ; to teach us that
wherever the soul is glorified, lifted up into higher
communion with God, prayer is the element in which
that exaltation takes place, the divine exercise that
brings the clouds of glory down from heaven to en-
compass and to adorn the brow of the praying saint.

"202 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

But we come this morning, brethren, to speak of
another and different aspect of the transfiguration ;
not the exercise that ushered in the transfiguration
— prayer ; not the significance of the glory which
came upon the person of Christ ; not the blessed
effect of it upon the minds of the disciples when,
almost beside themselves with joy and at the same
time touched with heavenly awe and fear, they said it
was good to be there — but we come to speak of the
presence in which the transfiguration took place,
Who was by when all this glory shone out of Jesus'
face and through his garments — when out of the gates
of the heavenly Jerusalem came forth two heavenly
citizens to meet and greet and. converse with the Son
of God ? All this took place in an earthly and in a
heavenly presence: the earthly presence, Peter,
James, and John ; the heavenly presence, Moses and
Elias. Before these this glorious event took place.
And when we get up into this mount of transfiguration,
and see Peter, James, and John, the first question
that suggests itself to us is, Where are the nine ?
why are they not all here ? Perhaps the true answer
is the simplest one we can think of — at least that
is the only one I can think of. Perhaps our Sav-
iour took these three rather than the others, just as
you would tell a secret to one friend that you knew
rather than to some others that you know. You
would say that your friend John or Thomas is not a
man of profound thought ; he does not see nice dis-
tinctions ; he has not a sympathetic nature ; but you
will tell it to William, for you know that his heart
will be quick in response to your trouble, and he will
treasure carefully your secret. You have several

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 203

children : how differently they are constituted ! They
may all be amiable and lovely, but there is a pecul-
iarity about one that fits him to be the repository of
some secret, and that leads you even to ask of him
advice. Sometimes we say that old heads are found
on young shoulders. But if it were insisted upon
that this is too low a view of it, perhaps some one
might think of a still lower one, and say that the
choice was an arbitrary one. This will accord with
one view of the facts given us in Scripture. The
same arbitrary choice, indeed, is recorded two or three
times. When Jesus would go into the house of
Jairus to raise his daughter from the dead, the story
tells us that he took James, Peter, and John ; in his
deepest trouble, when he offered that prayer in
Gethsemane, and would have the company of some
human soul in the direst hour of sorrow, he took
aside with him Peter, James, and John ; and now,
when he would show his coming glory, and present
himself as he now sits, perhaps, on his mediatorial
throne, changed, as by and by he will change us, he
takes up with him on the mountain, Peter, James, and
John.

Now, let us inquire for a moment whether there
is any thing according to the Scriptures in these
three persons to furnish reason for our Saviour's
choosing them. Why should they have been taken,
rather than the rest ? We have given a general
reason ; let us look at the more particular and per-
sonal reasons to be found, it may be, in the char-
acters themselves. First, he took Peter ; and why
was Peter chosen to go up with our Saviour into the
mount ? Brethren, a sad thought interposes itself

204 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

between us and Peter's good character at the very
outset. Just as soon as you begin to discuss the
favorable side of a man's character, and begin to show
what a great and good man he is, somebody is apt
to be by who knows a fault in him. He has not
under all circumstances been perfect. And we must
c6nfess that this was the case with Peter. He wick-
edly denied his Lord — denied him in the presence
and before the threatening countenance of only a
servant-maid. We are not disposed to apologize for
Peter's sin, but we would not exaggerate his fault ;
for there have been men who have done worse things
than even Peter in the denial of his Lord. Calvinists
and Arminians, while they held equally to the doc-
trines of divine grace in their peculiar way, have dis-
puted greatly over this great man, Peter. He has
been made the subject of many a long controversy,
until sometimes, in the struggle over this poor, erring
disciple's head, he has seemed to be in danger of
losing his character entirely.

Arminians, anxious to prove that it is possible for
a man to fall from grace, and to disprove the doctrine
of final perseverance as one very dangerous to the
souls of men, have exaggerated Peter's sin, and have
so described him that they have made very little
difference between him and Judas. On the other
hand, Calvinists, so anxious to save their doctrine
of final perseverance, and to offset the possibility of
a man's falling from grace, have gone to the other
extreme so far as to say that Peter was a genuine
Christian while the words of perjury and profanity
were in his mouth. It seems to us that both these
views are equally remote from the truth. In almost

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 205

all controversies where the disputants get angry the
truth lies about equidistant between the two. Peter
committed a great sin, and if he had not repented of
it the fall would have been foul and it would have
been final. A man is free for his own ruin as for his
own salvation ; but there is a great difference between
the crime Peter committed and the crime of Judas.
But the case is very different with the inexperi-
enced Christian, poorly trained, very diffident in his
disposition, who, in the moment of thoughtlessness
and conscious security, is betrayed under sudden
temptation and impulse into wrong. If that man
did not intend to sell himself to Satan for Satan's
price ; if he did not thoughtfully intend to wound
the Lord in the house of his friends, the first impulse
when he comes to his consciousness is this : " O,
what have I done ! What a wretch am I ! I have
wounded my Lord and Saviour ! What shall I do ! "
And that was exactly Peter's case. In a moment of
thoughtlessness, his Master under arrest, fear has now
come upon him. He thinks, after all, he might have
been deceived ; hesitation and doubt spring up ; this
woman looks him in the face, and then what a horrible
crime he commits ! He forgets all the Lord had ever
said or done for him. But scarcely has this wicked,
profane denial proceeded out of his mouth than he
bethinks himself; he looks up, and meets the look of
his Lord — a look which has become historic — a look
which comes into the face and into the eye of every
poor backslider in the moment of bitter repentance.
He saw his Lord looking at him. There was sever-
ity mingled with tenderness, and a look of rebuke.
It was enough. Peter's heart was broken. He

206 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

returned in his affection that moment, and, ashamed
of himself in the very depths of his soul, he went out
and wept bitterly. Let him that is without sin, that
hath never denied his Lord in any way, cast the first
stone at Peter. And if you are here to-day, who, like
Peter, have denied your Lord, you, like him,, may go
out and weep bitterly.

But let us look at Peter as he is presented to us
now in the estimate of his Lord and our Lord. Who
was it that gave the first confession and gave shape
to the apostolic convictions concerning the character
of our Saviour ? " Whom say the people that I am ?
Whom say ye that I am?" Peter, impulsive Peter,
sometimes carried astray by his impulses, though
generally right in them, always when he thought
beforehand, intending to be honest — Peter, ready to
speak, said, " Thou art Christ, the Son of the living
God." There seems to be a sudden animation come
over Jesus when he answered : " Blessed art thou,
Simon Bar-jona : for flesh and blood hath not revealed
it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven. And
I say also unto thee, Thou art Peter, and upon this
rock I will build my Church."

I know expositions are of another sort mostly. The
honor meant in that declaration was that Peter should
be the first member in the new Church that was
about to be established on the day of Pentecost.
Peter had that honor when he was the first man to
leap on some eminence and make a declaration of the
Gospel, and gather the new-born souls ; though no
better than the other stones of the building, he was
to be the first one laid. It was on the day that the
revival began in the house of Cornelius. As he was

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 207

the first to preach the Gospel to the Jews, so he was
the first to open the kingdom of God to the Gentiles.
After Peter's second conversion, (for so the Scriptures
seem to call it ; it is said, " When thou art con-
verted, strengthen thy brethren,) tell me if you can
find any thing like going back in the life of Peter ;
whether he ever seems to tremble before the face of
man now ? O what glory came down on him ! a
greater glory in the soul of this impulsive disciple
than the cloven tongue of fire that sat on his head as
a mere symbol. His words were like flames of fire,
and the slain of the Lord were almost past counting
on the day of Pentecost. What a beautiful scene in
the life of Peter when John was along with him at
the Beautiful Gate of the temple ; when, almost in one
word, they conferred, as humble instruments, bodily
and spiritual soundness upon the poor lame man
begging ! What a scene was that when they had
been taken, for preaching the Gospel, before the
Sanhedrin, and commanded to be beaten, and
Peter, with his back scourged, went shouting and
rejoicing that he was counted worthy to be beaten
for the name of Christ ! The boldest thing that
Peter did was going to sleep between two soldiers at
Herod's castle ; for Peter was a nervous man, and you
know how hard it is sometimes to calm and quiet our
nerves under little troubles ; but Peter had undergone
such a transformation on the day of Pentecost that
fear had been driven out of his soul by the heavenly
inspiration which he received. There, expecting to
be led out by those very soldiers to the executioner's
block the next morning, he went to sleep as an infant
on the breast of its mother. And, brethren, Peter

208 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

becomes here (and perhaps this was the reason why-
he was taken up into the mount of transfiguration)
the representative of the aggressive spirit of the Gos-
pel. It is that spirit of boldness which begins the
Church in various places, and which goes out to con-
quer strange, out-of-the-way localities.

But why did John go up ? There seems to be
reason enough : that question almost answers itself.
It could not have taken place, I was about to say, to
use the language of men, without John. Our Saviour
never did any thing grand and beautiful in his life
without John being along. It is explained when we
are told that John was the beloved disciple, the dis-
ciple whom Jesus loved ; and that he lay in Jesus'
bosom ; that is, when they were at their meals he
reclined, as they usually did, occupying the favorite
place, so that his head came near the face of his
Saviour. In this position he heard a great many
soft words from the lips of the Master that none of
the rest could hear. John was the gentlest of them
all, and yet in his quiet way as bold as any of them —
not bold, to be sure, in the sense of aggression, but in
the sense of resistance. When his blessed Master
was arrested in the garden, and the disciples were
scattered, and even the boastful and confident Peter
had followed at a great distance, another disciple fol-
lowed close after. I think it was John. Archbishop
Whately says it was Judas. He followed close after,
and seemingly without fear of meeting the face of
the servant-maid. There at the house, and by and
by, when the tragic hour came and Christ hung on
the cross, watched and tended only by a few heroic,
faithful women that never blanched, never shrank

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 209

from danger, among them, alone of the disciples, stood
John, the beloved disciple. Jesus showed his appre-
ciation of him by looking down at John, and then,
turning his gaze to his mother, who stood there, he
said, " Son, behold thy mother ; woman, behold thy
son ;" and that disciple took Jesus' mother to his
own house, where she, no doubt, ended her days
serenely and sweetly.

But again, if Peter is the representative of the
aggressive spirit of the Church, John is the type of
love. Read the first chapter of John's Gospel, " In
the beginning was the word," etc., and you will see
the depth of divine wisdom in this glorious disclosure
of our Saviour's supreme divinity. God intended
that this testimony should be planted in the first
chapter of this glorious Gospel through the fervent
John in such a form that in all coming ages no heretic
should successfully assail the supreme divinity of
Christ. If Peter was the representative of boldness
in the Church, John was eminently the disciple of
love. His heart was full of love, and when painters
caught the spirit of the Gospel his face radiated in
all the pictures of antiquity with the reflection of
Jesus' love. Is there any other disciple that could
have uttered with so much sweetness, " God is love ;
and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and
God in him ? " O how sweetly sound these aphor-
isms of benevolence and love that have come down to
us from the mouth and the pen of John ! " Beloved, it
doth not yet appear what we shall be, but we know
that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for
we shall see him as he is." " Let us not love in
word, neither in tongue ; but in deed and in truth."

14

2 I O THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

" Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he
laid down his life for us : and we ought to lay down
our lives for the brethren." Tradition tells us when
John was old and blind, his faculties gone and his
intellect apparently passed away, there was one thing-
left — it was this same element that characterized
him. When they took him in his blindness to his
Church and held him up to the audience, he had
only one sentence for his sermon, " Little children,
let us love one another."

There seems to be reason enough why John should
have gone up into the mount of transfiguration. But
how in regard to James ? This would seem to be a
very difficult case to understand. We have exam-
ined the reasons pro and con ; we will not mention
the various theories, but we will give you simply the
result to which we have come. We have arrived at
the conclusion that James went up into the mountain
because he was John's brother — that is, Jesus had
John for his beloved disciple, and James was John's
beloved brother. Jesus must have John wherever he
went ; he lay in his bosom, and to him he whispered
in his conversations, and poured out all the depth of
love to such an extent that the other disciples were
not capable of sympathizing with it. Jesus must have
John with him, and John must have James. John
went because Jesus did, and James went because John
did. This is the way, I was going to say, the thing
works in human nature — in our ordinary human life.
Brethren, religion does not design to traverse the
highway of the social and domestic affections. Don't
you remember that it was Simon who called Andrew
his brother to our Lord, and made him acquainted
with him ? and don't you remember that it was Philip

THE TRANSFIQ UBA TION. 2 1 1

who found Nathanael his brother, and brought him
to Jesus ?

No man has religion to give away ; the best of us
have none to spare. Supererogation is a myth of
the Middle Ages ; that golden chest, filled with the
merits of the saints, that the Pope and his ministers
dispensed at pleasure has no reality, except in the
money that it brings in. We cannot give any of our
religion to the friends we love the best ; if we could,
we would save them every one. As they were dying
in the very rottenness and corruption of sin, we would
snatch them from the eternal burning with the
strength of our will, and give half of our religion to
save their souls. That was a fruitless request :
" Give us of your oil, for our lamps are gone out."
They were directed to go and buy for themselves —
that is, get it by faith. No man can have a pious
brother without having so many more chances to be
saved ; no man can be born of pious parents without
having it much more probable that he will get into
the Church, and by and by rest with Christ in heaven.
That pious neighbor who lives on the same block, or
next door to you, when he comes out to his door-
step on Sunday morning, dressed in Sunday attire,
with his wife and children, tells you by that move-
ment that he is going to Church, and makes known
to you what a godless, heathen creature you are
because you do not go to Church ; and, when in the
evening you hear the notes of song or the voice of
family devotion, making the wall between you tremble,
you have the same sort of feeling. That is another
chance, another exhortation to be good. Brother
John is on the other side speaking to you, by whom

2 1 2 THE XE W LIFE DA WNING.

you will be taken, if not up to the mount of transfig-
uration, quickly to the feet of Jesus. In seasons of
revival, when a soul just born into the kingdom has
come, (perhaps a relative,) and thrown his arms around
your neck, and told you, full of tears and of anguish
for you, what Christ has done, and besought you to
become reconciled, there was a chance to be saved ;
and, when the countenances of the dead who have
died in the Lord come up out of their honored graves,
in moments ol meditation, and seem to look you in
the face, this is a chance to be saved ; and the brother
John influences that come to you from people who
are good are designed to rouse you to a sense of your
sin.

If this is true, brethren, even of strangers, under
these circumstances, how much more gloriously true
is it of those among whom we are reared ! How
often we hear in our class-meetings, (and I hope we
will never be done hearing it,) in our love-feasts, and
in our best conversations, when our souls are happy
around the fireside — how often we hear about the
blessedness of pious mothers and godly fathers !
That is the same principle we are talking about. We
remember, with such a sweet sense of gratitude to
God, how they took our soft infant hands, put them
together, and taught us to say our earliest prayers ;
how they had us baptized at the altars of God, took us
to the church, led us to the Sunday-school, and visited
upon us a whole wealth of love, in which our souls
floated ! We could hardly have been otherwise than
saved. I remember when I was a small boy, I had a
brother who was converted when he was quite young,
and I went to see him at his place of business. He

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 213

took me into the room about noon — I did not know
what he meant — he looked at me and said, " Did you
ever pray ? If you did not, I want you to pray. Let
us get down here and pray." That was my brother
John. I never forgot that. Every man, brethren,
has all the better chance to get up high in religion
if he has a brother John to help him. Every one
has a better chance of becoming saved if he has some
one who knows Christ, knows the way to him, and
is willing to lead him there.

But a word or two in regard to the heavenly pres-
ence in which this took place. There must be a
reason why Peter and James and John should have
gone up into the mountain rather than others. This
scene took place, not only in an earthly, but a
heavenly presence. Why did these spirits come out
to meet them ? Why were the gates of heaven
thrown open ? Why should they enter this coarse,
every-day world ? Why should they not ? I think
there are thousands of reasons why they should.
Perhaps it is over-bold to say that I think they do
come out all the time, only we do not get up on the
mountain to see them. I think there are a thousand
reasons why they should come out, to one reason
why they should not. I am sure we would all like to
see Moses and Elias. I think it would not scare me.
To be sure, as Paul says, I speak as a child. I do
not know what is best for us ; still I should vastly
like it. Perhaps I ought not to feel so ; but I lost
my father before I was born. They used to tell me
how he looked, and I used to pray God to let me
see his spirit by and by, When I grew to be a bad
boy, I did not want to see him ; but I think the good

2 1 4 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

have a sort of sacred curiosity, which is not wrong
if it is kept in bounds, with regard to the spiritual
world. I thought sometimes I would like to see what
Lazarus saw during the four days he was in heaven ;
we have not heard any thing about it. It would be
delightful to know what changes have taken place in
our spirits, to know how our friends live there, to
see the spirits of the New Jerusalem looking through
the crystal windows of that glorious city. I am re-
minded of a circumstance in the life of Dr. Hagany,
a loved friend of mine, who died very suddenly. He
had preached on Sunday morning from the text,
" Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my
last end be like his." He gave out that hymn,

" Shrinking from the cold hand of death,
I soon shall gather up my feet."

He was to finish the sermon at night, but was not
well enough to do so. He was up the next day,
went to Yonkers, spent the day with his friends, came
back on Wednesday, and was sitting in his parlor
reading one of Jeremiah Seed's sermons, to which
he had taken a fancy upon the recommendation of
Wesley. For he was a great reader of John Wesley ;
he was always reading his sermons and lived in the life
of Wesley's thinking. His wife was by his side. He
came to a beautiful passage, and said, " My dear, is
not that beautiful ? " She said it was. He read an-
other passage and exclaimed, " Is not that beautiful ? "
and as he said it, he put his hand to his head, and
was dead that moment. Among his papers, which
were sent to me, I found on a single sheet of paper a
dream which he had eight years before. It was writ-

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 215

ten in his own beautiful hand. The paper went on
to say : " I sat by my fire in my study, in an arm-
chair : the fire was smoldering on the hearth, and
the fierce winds were piling up the snow-drifts around
the house, and my mind gradually partook of the
gloom and severity of the outside world. By and by
I fell into a slumber. I thought I was in a beautiful
city ; the streets were all gold, the houses were all
built of diamonds and other precious stones, with
crystal windows. Every body who was passing along
the street looked so happy and so sweet. I looked up
the golden way, and I was struck with the fact that I
saw no mark of a carriage-wheel on the street nor the
appearance of a horse's foot, nor any thing of that
sort that should disfigure its smoothness or its beauty.
Suddenly the thought came to me, I never saw a
place like this in the world ; is it possible I am in
heaven ? Have I got to heaven without passing
through the pale of death ? " I ask you to put that
with the glory in which he died. He entered heaven
without passing through the portal of death. He
was reading what was beautiful and spiritual ; he said
it was beautiful ; he was dead, and entered into
immortal life. We often talked about the heavenly
world ; he believed that we were thronged with
spiritual existences. I have sometimes thought that
I should like to hear him comment upon his dream in
connection with his death.

But why did these particular heavenly visitants
come out ? Why were Moses and Elias selected
rather than any other ? Let us answer, first, in the
case of Moses. Moses was a lawgiver ; he was the
representative of the Jewish Church, the true Church

2 1 6 THE NE W LIFE DA WKIHG.

of God, and the only Church, until Christ came, that
existed in the world. He, therefore, stood for the law,
and his standing there was a direct approval of the
new dispensation which was to come in. Besides,
he was a prophet and a type of Christ long centuries
before. He had said, "A prophet shall the Lord
your God raise up unto you," etc. ; and now, as Moses
stands there, after sixteen centuries have passed away,
his own words, " Him shall ye hear," come on the
waves of memory down to him. There he stands ;
there is the blessed Lord himself, all glorified, all
radiant with inward glory ; and here are Moses and
Elias in glorv, and here is the bright cloud, the she-
kinah, overhead. Moses, Elias, and Jesus, are stand-
ing to hear out of the bright cloud the Divine Father
speak, " This is my beloved Son : hear ye him."
This old dispensation was a true one, and the old
Church was really th'e Church of God that was to
pass away to give place to the new. So that the
reason of the presence of Moses there seems to be
simply this : " The old dispensation was temporary ;
its time has gone by ; let the starlight and moonlight
pass away before the sunrise ; let the herald retire,
for the monarch approaches."

But why was Elias there ? The law and the proph-
ets is our Saviour's division of the Old Testament.
Moses represented the law and gave the law's con-
sent to his coming in and the passing away of the
former things, and here was Elijah, the prince of the
prophets. He seems to say, as the great, prophetic
expositor of the law, " In the name of all the proph-
ets, let the old dispensation pass away and the new
dispensation come in."

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 21 7

But how did these men from the world of spirits
happen to have bodies ? " A spirit hath not flesh
and bones," said Jesus, "as ye see me have; flesh
and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God." Here
come these two spirits, apparently with bodies to meet
the disciples and their Lord. How did they come to
have bodies ? I ask, How did any thing come ? It
came by God, as every thing comes. How could they
see these men ? how do we see any thing ? Let us
not stop half-way at a miracle. There are the disci-
ples on the mountain, the bright Shekinah, and the
Divine Father coming out of it. It is a miracle so
far. It is not hard to extend it a little farther and see
Moses and Elias coming out, not as spirits merely,
but as embodied and visible to the eyes of flesh and
blood. There is some explanation of this, after all.
One of these heavenly visitants had never died.
Elijah, or Elias, had never died. You recollect how
he was translated, that he should not see death. On
a certain occasion he walked along by the river
Jordan, in company with his friend. As they walked
they communed, and Elijah said to Elisha, as if he
would give him a friendly benediction : " Elisha, what
shall I do unto thee before I am taken hence ? " As
they talked there appeared chariots and horses of fire
coming down for Elijah. He knew that his time had
come and Elisha too. Elijah stepped in and was
gone. Here he is back on the mount of transfigura-
tion. He stepped into a chariot, and no doubt was
transfigured. But what of Moses ? We know less
about him. We know. that he grew old very slowly,
but we do not know that he ever died. His natural
force, when he was one hundred and twenty, was not

2 1 8 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

abated; his eye was not dim ; but the Lord command-
ed him to go up to Mount Nebo. He obeyed the
divine command ; the Lord buried him, and I do not
know but he gave him a resurrection body at once. I
would not assert that ; but, at any rate, we hear, a
little farther on, something that sounds very strangely,
as though he had met with an earlier resurrection than
most men will have. We are told in Jude's Epis-
tle that the Archangel Michael contended with the
devil about the body of Moses. Perhaps the Lord
buried him, and then raised him, and brought up that
resurrection body, that something which belongs to
every body, out of which the ethereal, spiritual, heav-
enly body in which we shall live forever shall be made.
At any rate, here is Moses visibly coming back to hold
converse. Now, brethren, what did they say when
they came and met Jesus and the apostles ? It
seems to me that the discourse is even more beauti-
fully and grandly curious than the appearance. What
beauty and grandeur there is in that idea, " they
came down " and conversed with him concerning the
decease which he should accomplish at Jerusalem !
They were talking with Christ about his death.

We shall make a closing reflection or two upon that
conversation. O if we could only know what it was !
But we cannot. We might guess a good deal. We
know the spirit of it, but we do not know the letter.
We know what the text was, if we cannot hear the
sermon. They discussed the decease of Jesus ; it was
the cross they talked about. We often wonder whether
the friends who are in heaven, those whom we loved
and had communion with, think about the same things
which engage our attention. Here is some intima-

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 219

tion from which we may gather comfort. They were
there discussing the noblest of all Christian themes.
It was the great doctrine of atonement that occupied
their minds ; it was the great finishing- stroke of the
great work of redemption. They had looked forward
to that, even in their life on earth, through bleeding
bird and bleeding beast, perhaps partially understand-
ing it. They looked down from heaven when Christ
should suffer to make atonement for the sin of the
world. The inhabitants of heaven come to talk — in
what language we cannot tell — about that great doc-
trine which, like a golden thread, binds the Church
of God in heaven and earth together in one, making
all hearts of one mold. They talked about what we
love most ; and if we were only more frequently on
the mount of meditation, prayer would become to us a
mount of spiritual transfiguration. We, too, should
have interior visions ; blessed visions would come to
us of the cross, the atonement, and the love of Jesus,
which would stir our hearts to their inmost depths.

It was not strange that these two inhabitants of
heaven were present. It was only strange that they
were visible. The Church of Christ is spiritual and
its beliefs are spiritual. One of its doctrines is the
doctrine of the ministry of angels. There are thou-
sands of them all around us. We often sing,

"Angels now are hov'ring round us."

They throng the air ; bad ones darken heaven, and
good ones lighten it, and they are. here to minister
and comfort. Don't you recollect when the prophet's
servant was alarmed ? The prophet's spiritual eyes
were opened, and he saw visions of God's glory and the

220 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

almightiness of his power. He prayed the Lord to
open the eyes of his servant, and when the Lord
touched his eyes, he saw the surrounding mountains
full of horses and chariots and armed men. If some
seer could touch these eyes of ours, and make the
scales that blind us fall, if we did not literally, we
should in a spiritual sense see the same, and Jacob's
ladder would be disclosed to our view, and even in
our waking hours the angels of God would be seen
ascending and descending.

The last remark I have to make is an inference,
not a very remote one, and that is, that Jesus Christ
gave special honor to friendship. He had his own
special friendships. Now, he loved Mary and Mar-
tha and Lazarus not as he loved other people. He
loved John, and took him into his bosom, and told
him what he did not tell others. Jesus loved all men.
" Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay
down his life for his friends." Jesus laid down his life
for his enemies, and for all men ; but there were some
who were drawn to him in circles. There was the
wider circle of the twenty who loved him ; then the
twelve, who loved him better and got nearer to him ;
then the three, Peter, James, and John ; and yet within
this narrow circle was John, closer still, with his head
on Christ's bosom and his lips close to his ear. Thus
it is in the Church now. The whole Church is now
gathered in concentric circles about Christ. He is
the center. There is a great, wide circle, very large,
far out yonder, with Jesus as the center. It is made
up of the cold men of the Church — those who are
swallowed up in business, accumulating fortunes,
looking after worldly honors, taken up with any

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 221

thing and every thing rather than with Christ — one
thing in appearance and another in reality, having
little in them that is like Christ. How large the
number of them if you take all Christendom ! Then
there is another circle, of those that are steady, care-
ful Christians, not bearing any special burdens or
sacrifices or running special risks ; but you cannot
put your hand on any thing they do, and say, " That
is wrong." ' They live without any visitations of joy
or zeal, without any remarkable faith to lift them
above the world — good people, but not near enough
to Christ. Then there is another circle of those that
are near to Christ, those who can hear his voice and
directly see the glances of his benign eye ; those
who are near enough to receive continual consola-
tion, whose souls are full of patience, gentleness, and
hope, manifesting all the fruits of the Spirit, reveal-
ing Christ to men, and saying to them that they have
been with Jesus and learned of him. And yet, fur-
ther in still, there is another circle, made of those
who, like John, lean their heads on Christ's bosom.

Such nearness to Christ is the dearest friendship
mortals can know. Ah, brethren, earthly friend-
ships are sweet ! Have you drank the waters of this
earthly fountain, liable in the end to taste of bitterness,
and yet possible to be true even to the end ? How
sweet are earthly friendships ! Pythias loves h s
Damon even unto death, if it becomes necessary, with-
out stint and without abatement. How sweet for Jona-
than to lose himself in the soul of David ! How
sweet to feel this strange mystery of two bodies in
one soul, especially if the love of Christ be the cement !
And yet how little our friends can do for us, and how

222 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

liable are they to pass away ! But the friendship which
we have been dilating upon is the friendship between
Christ and his own people. Christ is yonder in his
glory, and yet there are rays of love coming down
from him to us. A few weeks ago I visited, in the
city of Alexandria, in Virginia, an old father in the
Church, Alfred Griffith, one of the most faithful and
devoted Christian ministers in this whole nation. I
think he has been a minister sixty-three years. He
did not know his pastor, but he knew me. He took
me by the hand, drew me down, and kissed me. I
asked him how he felt with regard to the future.
" I am," he replied, " like Cato," (referring to an
old colored man,) " I have lost my interest in this
world ; my- memory and faculties are gone ; I am
waiting, like Cato, for the heavenly summons." If I
were to talk from now to sundown I could not
explain it half so well. Cato had nestled himself
into the heart of Jesus ; Cato had John's place and
heard him whisper. The friendship of Jesus is the
choicest friendship, and he that has most of it is the
richest, though he be poor as Lazarus.

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 223

Till.

CHRIST CRUCIFIED, THE KEY-NOTE OF THE
CHRISTIAN PULPIT.

For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus
Christ, and him crucified. — 1 Cor. ii, 2.

THE whole of the earlier part of this epistle
shows that the Church at Corinth was in danger
of yielding to the usual tendency of the Greek mind,
namely, the tendency to settle all questions by meta-
physical discussions. Hence the sharp distinction
drawn in the first chapter between the wisdom of
the world and the simplicity of faith in the Crucified.
Hence, too, the contemptuous inquiry : " Where is
the wise ? where is the disputer of this world ? Hath
not God made foolish the wisdom of this world ? "
And hence, also, the declaration that the Gospel was
foolishness to the Greeks, but the wisdom as well as
the power of God unto them that believe.

The object of this bold contrast between worldly
wisdom and the Gospel was to impress on the meta-
physical, disputatious Greeks the conviction that in
the Gospel the divine, infallible authority of Christ
and his apostles made the old disputes worse than
useless ; that all questions of truth and falsehood, of
right and wrong, of doctrine and duty, must now be
settled by the Galilean Prophet, even the Crucified

224 THE NE W LIFE DA WNWG.

One, whom God has made for us not only right-
eousness, sanctification, and redemption, but also
wisdom.

That this thought is uppermost in the apostle's
mind is also manifest from the beginning of the sec-
ond chapter, from which the text is taken. In this
chapter he reminds the endangered metaphysicians
and disputers of the manner and spirit of his own
coming among them, and how he had converted them
to Christianity. He says : " And I, brethren, when
I came to you, came not with excellency of speech
or of wisdom ; ... for I was with you in weakness,
and in fear, and in much trembling. And my
preaching was not with enticing words of man's
wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of
power."

But in thus ignoring wisdom, metaphysics, or phi-
losophy, does the apostle mean to cast contempt on
the godlike faculty of reason in man, or to deny that
philosophic thought has its legitimate sphere ? Not
at all. He. only means that within the domain of re-
ligion the Scriptures are the ultimate arbiter. As-
suming the Gospel as the truth to be argued from,
and ever submitted to, you may reason as much as
you list. But outside of these divinely dug channels
of inspiration in all matters pertaining to religion,
the profoundest reasoning degenerates into " philoso-
phy, falsely so called."

This, then, is the general tenor of the apostle's
argument in the early part of the epistle. Christ is
the supreme wisdom. His dicta are infallible, and
are to settle all disputes. In comparison with him
the philosophers are children and simpletons, and all

GHRIST CRUCIFIED. 22$

merely human wisdom is only folly, however plausibly
tricked out.

But the text, while based on this high claim for
Christ and his Gospel, makes an assertion less broad.
It declares the relation of Christ not to the whole
sphere of religion, but simply to the work of the Gospel
ministry. When Paul says that he determined not
to know any thing among the Corinthians, save Jesus
Christ and him crucified, it is as if he should say,
"Now, brethren, since Christ is head, supreme head,
of his Church, and dominates the conscience and the
reason of his people ; since systems of philosophy
opposed to him are folly, and the astutest arguments
no better than vapor ; since he is all in all, and in all
respects whatsoever, I acted conformably to this truth
in my coming in among you ; I determined to know
nothing but Christ the crucified ; I made him the
ruler of my thoughts, the dictator of my actions, the
divine authority, to whom, expressly or by implication,
all I said and did had reference.- I sought to live and
speak in his spirit, to settle every question as he
commanded, and to make him the chief theme of my
teaching.

In this sense, my brethren, Christ crucified is the
sum of Christian preaching — -the key-note of the
Christian ministry. And this is our theme to-day,
namely, Christ crucified, the key-note of the Chris-
tian pulpit.

But before we proceed to the direct discussion of
our theme, let us guard it from a certain narrow as-
sumption. When Paul said he determined to know
nothing among the people of his charge but Christ
crucified, he did not mean that his preaching should

15

226 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

contain nothing but the story of the cross, or that it
should be confined to statements and explanations
of the doctrine of the atonement. On the contrary,
he himself preached Christ in all his offices, in all
the situations of his life, in all the modes of his teach-
ing, as well as in his high-priestly acts.

Nor did he mean, when he determined to know
nothing but Christ, that Christ, in any of his offices,
should literally be the sole theme of his discourse. His
own example would be against any such narrow view.
In this very epistle he discusses the relations of the
sexes, the manner of settling disputes between Chris-
tian brethren, the question of eating meats offered
to idols, the baptism of the children of Israel in the
sea and in the cloud, and the doctrine of the general
resurrection. In others of his epistles he treats of
heaven and hell, he explains the moral and the cere-
monial law, and does not even forget the ethics of
civil government.

The purpose of Paul, therefore, to know nothing
among the people but Christ and him crucified, must
not be so explained as to convict him of inconsist-
ency. He will know only Christ and him crucified,
and yet he will enter every field of human duty, he
will expose every form of sin, he will explain and en-
force the moral law, he will expound all the doctrines,
and hurl the terrors of the last judgment at the
guilty heads of all sinners, both small and great.

To know nothing but Christ, then — to preach only
Christ — means, in the first place, that whatever we
preach Christ must furnish the rule, must constitute
the authority ; the preaching must be such as he has
commanded. In preaching Christ, therefore, we are

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 22J

not straitened ; on the contrary, we have the whole
Bible open to us. Jesus himself has bidden us search
the Old Testament Scriptures, as containing eternal
life, and as giving testimony concerning him. We
are, therefore, by apostolic example at home with
Moses, whom Paul has so luminously explained in his
epistle to the Hebrews. Our discourse may hold
communion with Samuel, David, and Isaiah, with
Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Daniel, and yet it may know
nothing but Christ and him crucified. That is, while
we walk with the holy ancients, we are lifted above
their stand-point by our relation to Christ. We walk
with Moses and the prophets, but in the light of
Christ. The heights of Calvary throw their glory
back on the angry thunder-clouds of Sinai ; the
prophecies are read in the glare of their fulfillment
in the person and work of Jesus. We may, there-
fore, preach Moses, so we only preach him as the
servant of Christ ; we may expound the prophets,
provided we only do it with reference to Christ.
The Old Testament is to be read through the
spectacles furnished by the New ; it is a stream,
which by its natural course pours its tide into the
New, and becomes Gospel by the mixture. Or,
rather, the Old Testament widens into and loses itself
in the New, and on the banks of the New, in its
blessed havens and ports, we possess ourselves of a
compass and chart by whose aid we can ascend the
stream of sacred history, safely navigate its every
creek and inlet, and understand and appropriate their
treasures as the fathers never could. Thus we preach
Christ when we preach the Old Testament in view
of Christ. Christ is the healing tree, thrown into the

228 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING. ■

bitter fountain of the law, and converting it into the
precious well of salvation ; under the touch of his
cross the law is Gospel, and Moses, David, and Isaiah
are Christian preachers.

Still further, we know nothing among men but
Christ and him crucified in preaching, when we de-
rive our teachings directly from him, even though we
say no word about his divinity or atonement, about
his person or authority. It is enough that we have
his authority, that we have given the people what we
have received from him. Our preaching may be pre-
cept or promise, doctrine or prophecy ; if it is only
from Christ, or from his divinely commissioned and
inspired servants, it is enough, even if Christ's per-
son and peculiar work are not mentioned. We can-
not always be dwelling on any one theme, even the
precious cross or divinity of Jesus.

For example, we sometimes hear it objected that
such and such preachers preach the law and not the
Gospel ; or that some particular sermon of a minister,
generally evangelical, has no Gospel in it, nothing
but morality. Now, if any one habitually preaches
the law in such a way as to make the impression that
man needs nothing but the law, that he has not a
fallen and helpless soul for which the blood of Christ
is the only possible hope, the charge of not preaching
the Gospel in such a case undoubtedly holds good.
Such a preacher may be a Unitarian, he may be
moral, he may be a scholar or a philosopher, but he
is no preacher of the Gospel. We would have you
by all means object to such preaching and to such
preachers, in whatever pulpits found. If Christianity
has a system of rules for right living, it also has a

C HEIST CRUCIFIED. 229

system of soul-washing. and soul-renewing mercy and
power, and the latter alone brings the law within the
reach of our enfeebled powers.

But it often happens, dear brethren, that these
objections to preaching the law proceed from those
claiming to be evangelical Christians. The sermon
complained of has perhaps only been severe on some
darling sin of theirs, or on some popular evil at which
they have winked, or to which they have given en-
couragement. They are angry because the preacher,
or the Spirit through him, has said, Thou art the
man ; thou art weighed in the balance, and found
wanting.

Indeed, there is a class of professors of Christianity,
not very small, we fear, who consider that Christ is
only preached when they are exhilarated. With them
the essence of the Gospel lies in a tender, tearful
voice, in lachrymose anecdotes, and in gorgeous de-
scriptions of heaven. Far be it from us to underrate
these things ; but he that confines the Gospel to
them, and sees and feels no Gospel and no Christ
except through them, has couverted the Gospel into
a mere luxury, a thing which gives dreams of pleas-
ure, but imposes no stern obligations of duty. This
is spiritual dyspepsia — a diseased craving for spirit-
ual confectionery, linked with a sinful loathing of all
solid food.

Never let us forget that the law is Christ's law,
and a part of his Gospel ; that to declare human
duty, to reprove sin, to denounce sin, to uncover the
eternal pit, are as much a part of the Gospel, and
can be as directly quoted from the mouth of Christ,
as the atonement, as the many mansions of heaven,

230 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

as even pardon through faith in Christ ; and that a
healthy Christian soul will revel as joyously in
Christ's law, in the purity — in the transcendent, stern,
sublime beauty — of the Sermon on the Mount, as
in the manifold theme of paternal and redeeming
mercy.

But there is still another way of preaching Christ,
where his person and work are not dwelt on. There
are cases constantly arising in the life of the com-
munity, involving both public and private morality ;
cases in which the minister must speak out or have
blood upon his skirts. You can think of many such
instances — we have not time now to note them. How
shall the minister preach Christ in the case of certain
prevalent vices, of certain sinful and fashionable
pleasures, which are not mentioned in the Scriptures
or were not even known in the apostolic times ? The
true answer to this question is, that the preacher
must know Christ, and determine from the principles
of his Gospel what he would do if he were present
in proper person to speak.

We know at least that he would be on the side of
justice, on the side of purity, of sobriety, of charity ;
he would oppose any thing and every thing which
would tend to loosen the bonds of virtue and moral-
ity. He would not allow a property interest to sway
him against the right ; he would not permit fashion
to stultify him ; if all the world went after a popular
idol, the crowd and the idol together would not draw
him ; he would stand with the virtuous few, as afore-
time, even if the multitude should cry out again,
" Crucify him ! crucify him ! "

So, brethren, must the preacher stand. He must

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 23 I

know Christ. He must have in himself a scriptural
image of Christ. In this sense, distinct, clear, bright,
abiding, Christ must be formed in him the hope of
glory, the judge of the world, and all its questions, all
its virtue and vice. Knowing this inwrought Christ,
and hearing his voice, he must not allow the world
to confuse or seduce him. He must settle doubtful
questions by and through- Christ. He must rise
above the fashionable din, and, with his eye upon the
image of Christ within him, he must ask, What would
Christ do ? how would he decide ? And the convic-
tion which comes back for his answer he must speak
out as with the tongue of a trumpet, even though it
leave him alone with his God. Truth is unchangeable,
and there is another world. He must follow his key-
note, even though to the ears of the corrupted mul-
titude his music seem only a horrid discord.

Take now another view : If we can preach Christ
when we explain his precepts and promises and doc-
trines ; if in cases of public sin, or prevalent or fash-
ionable vice, we may be able to know what Christ
would do if he were present, and thus still plainly
preach Christ, even where the life of Christ and his
apostles give us no guiding example, if we can do all
this, yet this is not all. There is still another way
kindred to this, in which we may know nothing but
Christ, when we are dealing neither with his person
nor his offices.

We may preach Christ by performing the duties
of the pulpit in the spirit of Christ. It is not all
that is done in the name of Christ that breathes his
spirit. The Pope pretends to be Christ's vicar, and
to act for Christ. How far he has followed the spirit

23 2 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

of Christ let the blood of the saints, and the souls
under the altar, slain for Christ's testimony, answer.
It is not simply preaching the law of Christ, or his
doctrine or person, that is most effectual. We may
say, Lo, here is Christ, or, There he is ; and there,
indeed, his word may be ; but if his spirit be not
there also he is but poorly preached.

By the spirit of Christ in preaching we mean that
the minister shall have set Christ before him as his
example ; that he shall have the aims of Christ for
his own ; that wherever in the Holy Book he may be
traveling, Christ shall be recognized as Lord of the
place and guide of the journey ; that in all his efforts
to win souls he shall have in him a sense of Christ's
estimate of the soul's value, and a response to the
love of Christ for lost men. In a word, we know
how Christ inspires his most faithful followers ; how
in his spirit he becomes wrought into them ; how
they grow into harmony of feeling with him ; how
this harmony of feeling becomes action and daily
life. Do you remember the old saint who, on his
way to the stake, was entreated to deny his Lord and
thus save his life ? You know his reply : " Many
favors hath my Lord shown me ; for which of these
shall I now turn against him ? " The good man had
exchanged his own spirit for that of Christ. So he
went on and died.

It is this being clothed with the spirit of Christ
that preaching as well as living wants. As a man
lives Christ not only when he talks about him, or
about religion generally, but in all he does — as
Christ's spirit is in all his doing, animating, inspir-
ing, energizing it — so the same glorious and blessed

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 233

spirit must be in the preaching, in all the preach-
ing : equally in the terrible and in the soothing, in
the threat and in the promise, in the curse and in
the blessing, in the portrayal of heaven and in the
uncovering of the pit.

Just here we may note a mistake, a practical mis-
take, by no means of uncommon occurrence. Be-
cause it is sweetly and sublimely written, " God is
love," because Christ is the highest expression of
the love of the Father to our fallen race, some peo-
ple leap to the conclusion that nothing severe can
proceed from or accord with the spirit of Christ.
Yet such people remember that he whose tears
moistened the grave of Lazarus, and baptized the
doomed city of Jerusalem, who received publicans
and harlots, and in words of sweetest endearment
invited to his fellowship and love all weary and heavy-
laden transgressors ; that he employed also the most
terrible denunciations against the proud scribes and
Pharisees. He called them " serpents, a generation
of vipers ; " and, in dreadful irony, exhorted them, as
hypocrites that devoured widows' houses, and for a
pretense made long prayers, to fill up the measure of
their iniquity ; and inquired of them, " How can ye
escape the damnation of hell?"

The same divine heart that declared the pardon of
the dying thief on the cross, that portrays the many-
mansioned house of his Father, that counted the
hairs on his children's heads, that was touched by the
fall of a sparrow of the value of only half a farthing,
that tenderly pressed and sweetly blessed the precious
children — this same divine soul portrayed the terrors
of the coming judgment, and described and held up

234 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

over the heads of the people the dreadful punish-
ments of the second death. Whence, but from the
lips of Jesus, come the descriptions of the world of
woe, with its dirge of endless wailings and gnashings
of teeth ? Who but the tender and loving Jesus has
told of the fire unquenchable, of the smoke ever
ascending, of the worm undying, and of the thirst
insatiable.

Nay, my brethren, a Christ wholly without wrath
and without severity is not the Christ of the Gospel,
but a sickly counterfeit, an idol of the Universalist
and Unitarian manufacture. True, the mission of
Christ was an errand of boundless love, but it was
still pure, and revolted at sin. It was as much in the
interests of purity as of mercy ; and Christ was as
much himself, and as fully in accord with his nature,
when he denounced sin, and held the persistent sin-
ner up to scorn and reprobation, as when he forgave
sin, and melted into compassion over a tattered prod-
igal or a possessed magdalen.

And the minister of Jesus is still in the spirit of
Christ when he honestly, faithfully, boldly reproves.
He dare not indeed substitute personal rancor or
animosity for the just and manly rebuke which be-
longs to his office ; but, feeling that God has counted
him faithful, putting him into the ministry — that at
the peril of his soul he must not fail to catch and up-
lift the falling standards of righteousness — in the tug
and brunt of the battle he may even lose the sense
of his own personality in that of his Master, and
fearfully launch the blazing arrows of the Lord against
his enemies. Thus it was that the apostles brought
down many of the proud and lofty ; crying out,

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 235

" Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish ; for I
work a work in your day, a work which ye shall in
no wise believe, though a man declare it unto you."
Thus, too, it was that our early Methodist fathers suc-
cessfully assailed the crowds of hardened sinners
whom they transformed by their labors into the first
Methodist societies.

Were they not then knowing only Christ ? Were
they not then preaching in the spirit of the Crucified ?
Were they not then preaching the cross by preach-
ing the preparation for it ? Was not the love of
Christ then constraining them ? Were they not then
fulfilling that word of mingled anger and tender-
ness, " Knowing the terrors of the Lord we persuade
men ? "

Yes, my brethren, God is still, as of old, sometimes
angry ; Christ is yet sometimes grieved at the sins
of men. Some ministers may be prevalently loving
in their sermons, but they have misunderstood the
Master, and do not represent his whole spirit, unless
they reprove and rebuke as well as invite. And
when the pulpit with faithful plainness, or even fiery
earnestness, finds fault or denounces sin, it is in the
spirit that brought again from the dead the Lord
Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep ; it is in the
spirit of Christ ; it is preaching Christ ; it is knowing
nothing among men save the Crucified.

But, brethren, if the text does not impose upon us
a narrow method of preaching the Crucified, but
throws open to us the whole Bible, the whole range
of duty, requiring only that we shall have Christ's
explanation of every thing, and Christ's authority for
every thing, and that we shall imbue our whole min-

236 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

istry with the spirit of Christ, still it is also fairly im-
plied in the text that Christ crucified shall be the
chief and most frequent theme of the pulpit ; that
his death to expiate the sins of the world shall be
especially set forth.

Christ crucified, in this narrower sense, is the great
luminous center of Christianity. The atonement is
propitiation ; it is bringing the banished, guilty rebel
near to the reconciled God. This it is which to our
reason cuts, and to our faith unties, the intricate knot
of a sinner's relation to his Maker ; this it is which
opens the prison doors to the captive soul, and, strip-
ping from him his ragged earthly wrappings, enables
him to sing,

" O love, thou bottomless abyss !

My sins are swallowed up in thee ;
Covered is my unrighteousness.

Nor spot of guilt remains on me :
While Jesus' blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy, cries."

When we call Christ crucified the key-note of the
Christian pulpit, we mean that the whole of Christian
preaching is to be led and colored by it ; that morals
and doctrines and promises without it would not be
what they are. Paul did not and could not say that
he would know nothing but Christ the teacher, or
Christ the sovereign. These, indeed, are the great
leading truths ; but the greatest of all for us is that
which links Christ with sacrifice. For the unfallen
angels, it were perhaps enough to call Christ sage and
sovereign ; but with man, the sinner, the first want is
mercy, which is not without the shedding of blood ;
and the second want is purity, which comes, too, from

CHRIST CRUCIFIED. 237

the same crimson tide and its blessed washing. And
again, when we call " Christ crucified " the key-note
of preaching, we mean that along with every other
doctrine this is ever to be understood : that in preach-
ing the law and in denouncing sin in any of its forms
we still have the atonement in reserve ; that it glim-
mers in the thought as a possible pardon. The most
dreadful threatening, being part of the Gospel, cannot
break entirely away from the key-note ; there is in it
still a ring of possible mercy and recovery. We read
of the fall of man in Eden, but the atonement plants
a new tree of life in the withering and blackening
garden. We gaze on the terrors of the quaking
mount of the law, but Christ crucified converts the
horror and dread into beauty, and tones the rattling
thunder down to its own music. We impose duty,
but through the otherwise severe injunction there
glides and pulses the precious note of grace. In
short, the foundation of the Gospel is laid in Christ
crucified, and the top-stone is superimposed, with
shouting Grace ! grace ! unto it.

Thus, dear brethren, we have indicated our theory
of the scope and tone of the pulpit. It grasps boldly
and comprehensively the whole domain of morals,
public and private. Its Gospel is in the Old Testa-
ment as well as in the New. Its spirit may be shown
in severity, even as in tenderness and mercy. Its
Lord and Dictator in all is Christ crucified, whose
cross gives the key-note of hope and mercy to the
whole of the grand oratorio. As it sings in the first
promise to the refugees from the flaming sword at
the gates of Eden, as it sings in the poetry of
the prophets, and as it finds its highest swell in

238 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

the earthquake in the midst of which the angel
rolled away the stone from the mouth of the holy
sepulcher, so it shall roll on through the ages, till
all the host of the redeemed shall celebrate in
heaven its ended work, the completed circle of its
triumphs.

GLORYING IN TRIBULATION. 339

IX.
GLORYING IN TRIBULATION.

Not only so, but we glory in tribulations also ; knowing that tribu-
lation worketh patience ; and patience, experience ; and experience,
hope : and hope maketh not ashamed ; because the love of God is
shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.
—Rom. v, 3-5.

THE apostle, in the beginning of this chapter,
reaches the triumphant conclusion that salva-
tion is by faith : " Being justified by faith, we have
peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ : by
whom also we have access by faith into this grace
wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of
God." And such is the spiritual transport which he
experiences in contemplating the blessedness of faith,
that he breaks out in the glowing language of our
text. He rejoices in hope of the glory of God ; and
so high is that joy in the salvation of God, so mighty
is the faith that justifies, and brings divine peace, that
even tribulation loses all its terrors and grows bright
in the holy transport of the new deliverance. " We
glory in tribulations also." Similar to this is the
same apostle's language in the twelfth chapter of
second Corinthians : " Most gladly therefore will I
rather glory in my infirmities." And again, " There-
fore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in
necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's
sake." And, still again, in the same epistle, after a

240 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

long and touching recountal of his sufferings in the
cause of Christ, in which he represents himself as in
stripes above measure, in prisons more frequent, in
deaths oft, five times scourged, three times beaten
with rods, three times shipwrecked, in perils from all
sorts of sources, in weariness and painfulness, in
watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often,
in cold and nakedness ; he adds : " If I must needs
glory, I will glory of the things which concern mine
infirmities." All this is in the spirit of our text, and
shows that there is a sense in which the apostle re-
joices in tribulation. This is our theme: " Glorying
in tribulation."

But does the apostle mean to teach that tribula-
tion is good in itself? that, considered as mere suffer-
ing it is capable of making men better in their char-
acters, or more acceptable to God? We answer,
most certainly not. Suffering, in itself, is evil, and
must proceed from sin — must be a penal consequence
of sin. At least, in such a sense that if there had
been no sin there had been no suffering.

Even in the ordinary punishments which the civil
law inflicts on crime there is no necessary virtue,
although they are useful and the law ordains them.
To society they are necessary, but to the criminal
they may be an unmixed evil. If they bring him to
genuine repentance, and lead to his reformation, they
may become a ground of rejoicing ; but the endurance,
of them, irrespective of their meaning and intent, can
do him no good ; as suffering they are only evil.

Hence the theory of the Romish Church, that
there is virtue in mere human suffering, voluntarily
endured, such as long and painful kneelings, vigils,

GLORYING IN TRIBULATION. 24 1

walking barefoot on ice and snow, wearing gravel in
the shoes, and whipping one's own back until the
blood flows, is mere heathen superstition. In this
respect there is no difference between a Romish and
a Hindoo saint.

Even the martyrs of the early Church misconceived
the teachings of the New Testament on this point.
Because Paul had gloried in tribulation, and James had
exhorted that Christians should count it all joy when
they fell into divers temptations, these early martyrs
sought martyrdom for its own sake. They were can-
didates for danger — for fire and for the jaws of wild
beasts, and that not only through the paths of duty,
but directly. But that joy in tribulation which was
taught by the apostles was consistent with the com-
mand of Christ : " When they persecute you in one
city, flee to another."

Neither sickness, nor pecuniary losses, nor bereave-
ments, nor persecution of what kind soever, is valu-
able and useful in itself. Many are as full of the
world after their losses as before ; many get up from
sick beds and rush back, as soon as their returning
strength will allow, to their former vices ; many re-
turn persecution by hatred and rage instead of by
patience and meekness, and grow worse under provo-
cations.

The meaning of the apostle, therefore, when he
declares that he glories in tribulation, must be that
suffering, which in itself and naturally is evil, may
become a blessing, to be accepted gratefully, and
even rejoiced in, when we meet it in the path of duty.
Even a burning staircase, which in itself is an ugly
and dangerous pathway, may become a great blessing

16

242 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

if it affords escape from an upper chamber of a burning
house. It is better to cross a river on the craziest
raft than to be drowned. It is better to go to school
to a rough and cruel teacher than to pass life with no
education. And the man who escaped from his burn-
ing chamber on the blazing staircase might well be
thankful for the flaming planks on which he blistered
his feet. The dripping passenger over the river may
well praise the rickety raft, in holding on which he
received such a desperate drenching. The scholar
may well be thankful for the heavy-handed teacher
whose marks he still bears on- his shoulders.

Duty dignifies whatever it touches. The menial
offices of life become important when looked at in
the light of duty. The work of. a wood-sawyer, of a
scavenger, of the humblest servant, as ditty, is God-
given, and in that light has his mark of honor upon
it. In His esteem, before whose wisdom human
genius is as a glow-worm's spark, and human wealth
and greatness are poverty and meanness, the
work of a king, of a statesman, and of a scaven-
ger, may be equally dignified. Duty is the highest
level, and he that brings humble labors up to that
line is nobler than he who keeps genius and elo-
quence below it.

Even the little pleasant things of life are great in
this view. Our play with our children, our walks,
our rides, our social converse, all rise as we yield
them to the shaping motive of duty. They come
thus into the very same sphere with prayer and read-
ing the Scriptures, and meditation ; into the circle,
that is, of the divine, and are noble as portions of
our God-given life.

QLORYIXG IX TRIBULATION. 243

But as duty becomes more arduous, as it rises in
labor and difficulty and danger, it grows nobler. It
is only when the sense of duty is firmly rooted in the
soul that it can endure tribulation. Then the true
path, clearly defined before the eyes, will be followed,
however thorny. The tribulations are seen inter-
vening, and they are dreaded too, but not dreaded so
much as disloyalty to duty. And when the alter-
native is presented of deserting the path, or passing
through it, the tribulation is accepted even joyfully.
Job cries out, " Mine integrity will I hold fast, and
will not let it go ; my heart shall not reproach me so
long as I live. Though he slay me, yet will I trust in
him." Moses chooses rather to suffer affliction with
the people of God, in the path of duty, than to turn
from it, for the pleasures of sin, even though they be
royal. Daniel will not worship the idols of Babylon,
and will worship the God of Israel, even in the face,
an edict dooming him to a revolting death. This
sense of duty is like the anchor which holds the ship
firmly amid all the riot and fury of the storm, severed
from which she would be dashed on the rocks or
swamped amid the breakers. The sense of duty is
like the roots of the oak, that hold on, as with giant
arms and hands, in the depths of the soil, without
whose grasp of the earth it would be hurled from its
position by the storm like a feather.

The sense of duty shows and warns against a
fiercer fire than that of martyrdom, a deeper and
blacker stain than that of worldly dishonor, a darker
dungeon than any earthly prison. Wrong, to it, is
worse than all forms of suffering put together, for it
is the real, the inner, the spiritual, the essential, the

244 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

eternal river, of which is born the undying worm of
the conscience and of the bottomless pit.

It has been said that a religious man fears to do
wrong, while a man of honor scorns to do wrong.
This is an incorrect view of the matter ; a man of
merely worldly honor scorns, perhaps, the reputation
of a wrong doer ; he would on no account bring
dishonor upon his name. For if he goes beyond
this, and refrains from wrong, as such, as in the sight
of God, from a sense of duty, he so far becomes
religious.

The truly religious man does more than scorn the
wrong : he not only fears it, regarding it as the high-
est calamity — worse than poverty or pain — but he
abhors it, and will accept tribulation in preference to
wrong with all its golden accompaniments.

But all this only goes so far as to show that duty
makes us strong to meet tribulation, that duty grows
in dignity in proportion as it is performed in the
face of tribulation ; that its power is such that when
it is firmly rooted in the soul we prefer it to the
smoothest and the gayest path that worldly and
fleshly license can point out to us.

But, after all, there is in the idea of duty some
sense of burden. The word, the very word, means
that which is due, that which we owe, that to
which we are bound or obligated. And if we go no
farther in the Christian life than the sense of duty,
than working under the sense of obligation, we live
in the spirit of the Old Testament, of the law ; we
are bond rather than free — bound to a good master,
but still bound.

The new dispensation, the Gospel, brings deliver-

GLORYING IN TRIBULATION. 245

ance from servitude. The sense of duty is still
there, but it becomes transfigured by holy love !
Moses and Job and the Old Testament saints gene-
rally struggled manfully, against their trials ; they bare
them, and they overcome ; but there is a sense of
work, of toil, of endurance, as of hardship, about them.
The thing seems hard, though in the highest degree
noble and heroic. But the spirit of the apostles is
wholly different. They do not merely bear their
trials from a sense of duty — their feelings break out
in exulting song when they have been scourged for
preaching " Christ and the resurrection." They re-
joice that they were counted worthy to suffer shame
for the name of Christ. They glory in the tribula-
tion. The enthusiasm of love rises in proportion to
the pressure of trial.

O, the power of love ! Have you seen a widowed
mother sit shivering at her two-cent candle, in her
lonely, fireless room, stitching her ebbing life into
the seams of a shop garment ? With what joy she
wastes away ! How she delights to spend her very
life ! How as nothing does she esteem her late
and early toil ! The stitch, stitch, stitch, are the
successive ticks of a death-watch to her ; but it is all
for her boy, and the sacrifice is joyfully made. Do
you remember the story of General Marion, when
the British officer paid him an official visit ? Marion
asked him to remain and dine. The table turned
out to be a log, the plates were pieces of pine bark,
and the dinner was of sweet potatoes, roasted in the
ashes. Marion apologized for the fare. The British
officer replied, " I suppose what you lose in meal you
make up in malt ; that is, if you have poor fare you

246 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

have large pay." " Not a cent," said Marion. " We
are fighting for liberty ; she is the fair object of our
toils and sufferings, and we will win her or perish in
the attempt." He gloried in living on scanty fare,
in being half naked and in perpetual danger of his
life, because he loved liberty and country.

And so it was with Paul. He had found Christ,
" as the fairest among ten thousand and the one
altogether lovely." Christ had delivered him. He
was filled with the love of Christ. The love of Christ
constrained him, and not a mere conviction of duty,
a sense of obligation, however dignified and elevated.
Why, it is impossible to imagine Paul acting under a
mere cold sense of duty. The cause of Christ was
in him as a nature, a new and holy nature. It was
not the following of this nature that was difficult ;
to repress it would have been horrible to him. This
holy love within him followed Christ irrespective of
danger and suffering ; it flowed forth as a perennial
fountain. If in pursuit of Christ's glory he found
himself a prisoner, he shouted and sung out of his
stocks at midnight, and beat time with his handcuffs.
If he was brought before kings and judges to answer
for his faith in Christ, he made joyful confession, and
wished that all men were not only almost, but alto-
gether, persuaded to be such as he was, except his
chains. If he was troubled with a thorn in the flesh
he gloried in his infirmity, that the power of Christ
might rest upon him. If he lived it was for Christ,
and if he died for Christ it was gain. What things weae
gain to him he counted loss for Christ, and counted
them but dung and dross that he might win Christ.
And if he was sorrowful, he was always rejoicing,

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 247

bearing about in his body the marks of the dying of
the Lord Jesus.

There is, therefore, a sense in which Paul delighted
in suffering, not on its own account, but for Christ's
honor, for the promotion of Christ's cause, as an
expression of his love for Christ. There is a story
of a brave little boy who, seeing a heartless school-
master about to punish a fragile little girl for missing
her lessons, stepped forward and proposed to bear
the punishment in her place. The brutal master,
incapable of being touched by the boy's generosity,
took him at his word, and the blows fell on the little
hero thicker and faster because he had dared to
question the propriety of punishing the little girl.
How think you he felt under the sharp stripes ? He
perhaps winced, tears filled his eyes, his lips quiv-
ered, the pain was great ; but there was still mingling
with the pain a glow of dignity, a noble pride, a con-
tempt for the stick, a heroic indignation which made
him feel that this was the sweetest suffering he had
ever known. But suppose you take out of the little
hero's suffering the idea that he was enduring it for
the sake of the delicate little girl, and imagine that
he is suffering merely for the sake of suffering, there
is then nothing to brace him up, no end to suffer for,
nothing about it to glory in. He is a dunce instead
of a hero.

To endure suffering for its own sake merely is
popish, heathenish. To meet suffering coldly from a
mere sense of duty is noble, but belongs to the Old
Testament dispensation, or to a lower development
of the Christian life ; it is endurance without'joy, it
is patient suffering, but not glorying in tribulation.

248 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

But to be prompted to endurance for Christ from
love to his name and cause, to find in it a joy which
lifts up above the suffering while we are in it, to find
the fervor of our love greater than the power of pain,
that is the religion of the martyrs, and of the genuine
saints of all the Christian ages.

Does any one say. But such glorying in tribulation
belongs only to the ages of martyrdom, and, if at all
to the present age, only to heathen lands, where men
are liable to persecution for Christ ? Not so, my
brother. Even here and now there is tribulation, in
which we may rightly glory. Whatever losses come
upon us in business ; whatever sicknesses, with their
attendant pain ; whatever poverty, and strugglings
with it ; whatever bereavement — these, whatever may
be their immediate cause, are providences for us,
and may be, and indeed must be, endured in a
certain sense for Christ's sake — to please Christ, to
submit to his will, to catch his spirit.

Have you sometimes had a severe trial and borne
it badly, and afterward almost longed for another,
that you might prove how much better you could
behave under it? When you have passed through a
severe sickness and have recovered, have you ever felt
your heart overrunning with gratitude to God for his
mercy, and have you, in the abounding love of your
soul, almost wished you might be sick again that you
might bear it better than before? Have you suffered
loss of fortune, in whole or in part, and, having chafed
under it at first, have you gradually been brought to
see the wisdom of God's chastening ? do you now
accept it, and feel it good for you ? do you almost,
in your better moments, wish another similar trial, that

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 249

you may show your Lord how much better you could
submit ? do you rejoice in this submission to the
Divine will, in this discipline as divine ? If you do,
you have already drunk into the spirit of this text ;
you have the heart to glory in tribulation.

But the apostle's special reason for glorying in
tribulation is the effect it produces in the soul.
Tribulation wrorketh patience. Patience is calmness,
steadiness of soul ; and tribulation works it, produces
it. We learn endurance by enduring, as we become
learned by learning ; veteran soldiers are formed by
long and painful marches and hard fighting. Thus
also are made the veterans of the cross. No amount
of mere theory will produce patience ; we must go to
the school of suffering to learn it. There, and there
only, can patience have its perfect work.

Again, patience worketh experience. Mark, it is
not tribulation that worketh experience ; but tribula-
tion worketh patience, and produces experience only
intermediately and through patience. If people re-
main impatient under affliction they get no experi-
ence. Experience here means the practical knowl-
edge of the divine life. This is what patience works.
Patience keeps the mind calm in tribulation, so that
one can gather up and store away the holy lessons of
Providence. The astronomer must have a clear sky
for his observations, and so the Christian must by
patience keep the sky of his mind clear, or no
saving experiences will result — no practical knowl-
edge for future use. God gives the first experi-
ences of the Christian to souls with but little
of sacred patience. But growth after this demands
patience. We cannot know our own hearts or

250 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

Satan's devices without patience under the testings
of tribulation.

Experience worketh hope. That is, experience
searches into and thoroughly sifts the hope we al-
ready have. If it is false, it exposes it and substitutes
a true one ; and if it is only imperfect, it develops,
increases, strengthens it. This it does by showing
how empty are all merely worldly hopes, and by
bringing out in bolder relief the Gospel hope ; push-
ing life further forward into the eternal world, and
bringing the soul more and more into commerce with
heaven.

But this hope is described as not making ashamed.
That is, it is well founded. In the trials and experi-
ence of patiently-borne tribulation we have gone
down to the foundation ; we have found it built on
eternal truth, and reaching to heaven with the bur-
nished pinnacle of its towers.

But tribulation worketh patience, and patience ex-
perience, and experience hope, " because the love of
God is shed abroad in the heart by the Holy Ghost
given unto us." That is to say, whether tribulation
shall be a blessing or a curse, depends on the love of
God being shed abroad in our hearts ; whether tribu-
lation shall produce patience, depends on this love in
the heart ; whether the experience and hope are gen-
uine, must be tested by the question whether the
love of God is indeed shed abroad in our hearts.

But what love of God is this which is shed abroad
in the Christian heart ? Is it God's love for us, or
ours for him ? We answer, Both ; God's love to us,
because we love him only after perceiving that he
loves us ; his love for us is shed abroad in our hearts

THE TRANSFIG USA TIOK 2 5 I

only when we discover and appreciate how much he
loves us ; then, with this conviction of the divine
love streaming in upon us like holy light, we exclaim —
not that we loved him, but that he loved us, and
gave himself for us — " Behold what manner of love the
Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be
called the sons of God ! " Then it is we cry out :

" "lis love ! 'tis love ! thou diedst for me;

I hear thy whisper in my heart ;
The morning breaks, the shadows flee ;

Pure, universal love thou art :
To me, to all, thy bowels move —
Thy nature and thy name is Love."

But it is also our love for God which is shed abroad
in our hearts. This is only the other side of God's
love for us ; they are halves of the same whole. It is
the response of the human to the divine affections ;
it is the tide of human love rising up to meet a
divine attracting force and embracing it. It is the
soul's joyful " Yes " to the divine " Come ! " And this
love — this double, holy passion between earth and
heaven, between the Imperial Father and his fallen,
earthly child — is divine ; it is by the Holy Ghost
given unto us. He comes with almighty energy to
pluck us away from ourselves ; he tends the tribu-
lation which Providence sends , he gives us strength
to glory in the fire of trial, and to walk through it
unscorched ; he brings forth from its pains and
groans, patience, like a tried jewel ; he links to pa-
tience the solid experience of Christian life ; he raises
on the foundation of settled and stern experience,
the heavenward pointing shaft of a hope which cannot
deceive.

252 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

These graces, mark, are nothing apart from each
other. Tribulation by itself is an unmitigated curse ;
patience out of its connection is the boasted trait of
a Stoic ; experience standing alone is a bundle of ad-
ventures without law and without profit ; and hope
which does not spring from true experience, and is
not tested in patience by tribulation, is the hope of
the hypocrite, which is as the spider's web. But
these graces united in holy interaction by the Spirit
of God are a diadem of glory, a ladder, on which to
reach heaven ; a system of sacred machinery harmo-
niously co-operating in the salvation of the soul.

Have we trials ? let us be patient ; let us see
God's hand ; let us search and see whether or no we
have the love of God shed abroad in our hearts by
the Holy Ghost. Then shall tribulation be a glory,
a fruitful glory, a sanctifying glory. Then

" The frost of affliction embroiders the dress,
And comfort drops down from the clouds of distress.
As snow guards the seed and refreshes the soil,
And gives to the tiller the fruit of his toil,
E'en so with affliction, to-day bringing sorrow,
But yielding new joy with the light of to-morrow."

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 253

X.

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE.

They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. — John
xvii, 16.

THE discussion of fashionable amusements has
reference to the distinction between the Church
and the world. These amusements are to be rejected
because they are worldly in their very nature, or, at
least, are ever tending, from our very constitution or
from the structure of society, to produce worldliness.
But a question lies back of all this, for the discussion
of which the Church and the times seem to demand.
It is a deeper question, and one upon the answer of
which will depend the justice of our condemnation
of many practices which the Church reprobates. One
of the most important questions of the times is that
which has respect to the reality and character of the
distinction between the Church and the world. Is
this distinction real ? Is it the duty of the Church
to keep it from being obliterated ? Is there, in other
words, a spiritual society, professing to follow the
Divine law as its rule of life — conforming business,
interest, pleasure, and all else, to that rule ? And is
there a class of persons who refuse to enter such
spiritual society, and who seek their interests and

254 THE NE W LIFE DA WJSTING.

happiness without reference to the will of God ? If
there is, how shall these parties come together ?
Shall it be by losing sight of the distinction ? This
cannot be done without ignoring the distinction be-
tween right and wrong, without shutting our eyes to
the eternal difference between the wicked and the
righteous. The only legitimate way to bring the two
parties together is to keep up the distinction most
sternly, make the contrast between the just and
unjust, the holy and sinful, as strong as possible, and
seek to bring the wicked across the line by a change
of character and tastes. Thus the righteous will
maintain their position for their own security as well
as for the purpose of bringing over, or drawing over,
the wicked. If the magnet wishes to draw, it must
preserve its character as a magnet.

This is not the view taken by a distinguished Uni-
tarian preacher. He was preaching on fashionable
amusements and in defense of them. He manifestly
felt that to make an impression for the cause he was
advocating he must demolish the distinction between
Church and world. Hear him : " I am," says he, "a
servant, not merely of religion, but of the Church,
and hope to live and die in this service ; but if there
is to be a great gulf fixed between the Church and
the world, as between heaven and heU, minister of
Christ as I am, I would sooner take place and part
with the world than with the Church ; with common
humanity than with any elect portion of it ; with
confessed sinners than self-assumed saints — for I be-
lieve that Christ, who is the light of the world, and
not of the Church alone, is more permanently a resi-
dent in the common hearts and fortunes and feel-

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 255

ings of mankind at large than of any fraction of
humanity, however select or self-appropriative of his
name and patronage."

If this means any thing, which is quite doubtful, it
teaches that when God set apart the Jews as his
peculiar people, he really meant to draw no broad
line of distinction between them and other people,
and that he was more permanently resident with the
rest of the world than with them. It means, if not
destitute of all meaning, that Christ did not dwell
more with his immediate disciples before his ascen-
sion, nor with the apostolic Church after his ascen-
sion, than with the rest of the world. To every Bible
reader this view must be absurd in the extreme, and
could only have resulted from the fact that the re-
ligion which teaches it is a worldly religion, a system
which seeks to appropriate Christianity to the whole
world, just as it is affirming that, as men have not
fallen, so that they need not be converted in order to
be religious. If all men are by nature what Chris-
tianity requires them to be, of course the distinction
between Church and world is false and foolish.

Now we propose to show, first, that this distinction
between the world and the Church is a great and
stupendous reality ; second, we wish to look into the
nature of it ; and, third, from its nature we shall de-
duce the necessity of its strict and diligent mainte-
nance, and, finally, make an effort to show how it
shall be maintained.

First, then, let us inquire whether it is right to
make this distinction at all, to draw this line between
the Church and the world. Is it founded in truth ?
Has it any important relations to the struggle of vir-

256 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

tue and religion for the mastery in the world ? What
is the gift of religion to a world actually corrupt as is
ours ? What does it mean ? Is it not the very idea
of religion, in such a case, that it finds all corrupt
and hostile, and offers itself to the acceptance of all to
whom it comes, as the instrument of pardon and holi-
ness ? And do not all who accept it segregate them-
selves from the rest, and, gathering around, and
yielding themselves up to their religion, form a party
in its interests ? Whoever becomes religious joins
this party, and hence crosses the line between it
and the party he leaves.

We do not say, of course, that some of the bad, as
hypocrites, will not outwardly join the Church; nor
do we deny that a few pious persons, under the in-
fluence of mistaken views, may remain out of her
pale. But like, as a rule, seeks its like : goodness
gravitates toward goodness, and evil cleaves to evil.

The natural result, therefore, of the entrance of
religion into a world of sin is at once to bring about
this distinction between Church and world, between
those who choose God for their portion and those
who find their portion out of God. Why, men of
merely similar esthetic tastes — lovers, for example, of
music, of literature, of science — will herd together ;
and will not the love of God, with the mighty sense
of duty in a purified conscience, infallibly lead good
men to combine for the noble purpose of presenting
an undivided front against the aggressions of sin, and
for the purpose of pushing the conquests of religion
into the hosts of opposition ?

What is thus so reasonable apart from the teach-
ings of Scripture is also most distinctly taught in

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 2$7

that holy record. Turn we then to the Bible. We
have already alluded to the Jews, and shown that
God selected them as his chosen people. And we
know that, notwithstanding their sins, God dwelt
among them, in the persons of pious kings and law-
givers and prophets, while other nations seem to
have been mysteriously abandoned to idolatry. And
even among the Jews themselves, in times of cor-
ruption, the faithful withdrew from the corrupt mass;
for it is written : " They that feared the Lord spake
often one to another : and a book of remembrance
was written before him for them that feared the
Lord/'

But what are the teachings of the New Testament
on this distinction between the Church and the
world ? The true religion now comes forth from its
merely national limitations. It is no longer the
family of Abraham only that is now, under the new
dispensation, to be embraced in the covenant, but
all mankind. The middle wall of partition between
Jew and Gentile is upheaved from its foundation, and
the whole human race now stands before the Church
as the direct object of its labors.

But is the distinction between world and Church
lost in the broad scope of the new dispensation ?
Just the reverse ; it is now more clearly drawn than
ever before. Under the old dispensation, now laid
aside, the whole Jewish nation was the visible Church,
and was directly included in the covenant, so that with-
in that nation there seemed to be an ignoring of the
distinction we are discussing. In form it was only
kept up between that nation and others around it.
The line was drawn between nations, and moral

17

258 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

character was overlooked. But when Christ comes
it is no longer nations, as such, that are separated,
but men, according to character. With a more spiritual
and elevated system of instruction Jesus brings also
a stricter Church discipline. He requires not only-
outward conformity to his law, but inward purity,
and in accordance with this demand he divides man-
kind into his " people and those who are not," those
for and those against him, the Church and the
world, declaring the hostility between these two to
be irreconcilable.

How forcibly and repeatedly this truth is uttered
in the fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth
chapters of the Gospel of John, especially in such
words as the following: " If the world hate you, (the
disciples,) ye know that it hated me before it hated
you. If ye were of the world, the world would love
his own ; but because ye are not of the world, but I
have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world
hateth you." Again: "They are not of the world
even as I am not of the world." Yet again : " When
the Comforter is come, he will convince the world
of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment." That is,
the Holy Ghost would convince this hostile world,
that hated both Christ himself and his disciples, that
they were on the wrong side in this great life and
death struggle ; that they must cross, by moral and
spiritual means, the line that separated them from
the true Church before they could be in a safe
position. Still another quotation from the same
connection, to wit: "The prince of this world is
judged." Here, finally, the world, of which he and
his disciples are not, which hates both him and them,

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 2 59

is under the headship of a personage here called
"The prince of this world;" that is, as all his disci-
ples, all his followers, all that believe in him and in
his Father, are wider him as their Lord and governor,
and make up one kingdom, so all that reject him,
all that do not believe on him or obey him, are
under another prince, with other and different laws,
and constitute another and hostile kingdom. The
two kingdoms are mutually repellent, and each bent
upon the other's overthrow. The prince of the
powers of the air — as Satan is elsewhere called — who
works in the hearts of the disobedient, marshals the
hosts of sin, and Jesus, who came into the world to
destroy the works of the devil, is the leader of the
forces of goodness and holiness. This is only the
scriptural form of asserting the inappeasable, irrec-
oncilable hostility of sin and holiness.

But let us look into this momentous distinction a
little more critically, but still, in the light of holy
Scripture, the Christian's only infallible guide. John,
in his first epistle, says : " Love not the world, neither
the things that are in the world, for if any man love
the world, the love of the Father is not in him ; for
all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the
lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the
Father, but is of the world." This passage is ex-
actly parallel to one in an epistle of St. Peter, where
he speaks of Christians being made partakers of the
divine nature, and escaping the corruptions that are
in the world through lust.

Now the meaning of these passages seems to be
precisely the same with that of another class of dec-
larations, which speak of the carnal mind and the

260 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

spiritual mind, of the natural man not perceiving the
things of the Spirit of God, and of their being spir-
itually discerned, that is, of their being discerned by
the spiritually minded. The separation, therefore,
of the Church and the world is of the profoundest
sort ; it is radical ; it is based upon a diversity of moral
character, which roots itself in the depths of man's
nature. The Church is hot — as the preacher from
whom we have quoted insists, when he would pro-
mote the cause of a sinful worldly amusement — is
not a close corporation, arbitrarily divided off from
the world by a man-built wall, so that a good man
may elect to stand with the world and yet be as good
as if he took the other side. The wall is built by the
Lord of all, and that in accordance with the true con-
ditions of the great struggle between sin and holi-
ness, between Christ and Belial ; so that a man is on
one side or the other, as he loves the Father or as he
loves the world that is at enmity with him. A man's
moral state, and not theological ingenuity, or secta-
rian prejudice or narrowness, fixes the distinction
between the Church and the world.

Nor can it be rationally objected against this dis-
tinction, that it makes an artificial appropriation of
duties, demanding of Christians one set and of the
unregenerate another and lower. This is a shallow
and unreflecting view. The duties of Christians,
that is, of the Church, are the duties of all men,
whether they are in or out of the Church, whether
on one or the other side of the dividing ridge.
The difference is that the Church, according to the
profession of its members, has publicly recognized,
and pledged itself to the performance of, those uni-

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 26 1

versal duties, while the world remains disobedient
and sets up for itself another standard. True, the
Church speaks, and rightly too, of the inconsistency
of her members in taking certain pleasures or doing
certain acts in which men of the world freely indulge
without losing their honor or respectability among
men. But by such language it is not meant to
convey the idea that there may be wrong things
allowed in worldly men while they are forbidden to
Christians.

Far otherwise. The worldly man is as much aside
from his duty as the worst Christian can be. But then
the Church has a government over her members ; she
has received their pledges ; she has, in a sense, the
keeping of their life, and they have the honor and
the weighty responsibility of representing her among
men. And when they join with worldlings in the
sinful amusements of the day they are not only incon-
sistent with duty, like the worldly companions who
have misled them, but they are also inconsistent with
their professions, with obligations which not only
exist without their consent, but which they have vol-
untarily assumed. And of this it is the duty of the
Church to remind them : to let them understand
that their own admitted premises, of duty, are in con-
flict with their conclusions, in practice ; that wrong-
doing is not only censurable in itself, but addition-
ally so because of their own pledges ; that they are in-
consistent in a higher sense than men of the world.

Now, if this distinction between the world and the
Church is thus fundamental ; if it is a difference be-
tween those who submit to the Divine authority and
those who do not ; if it is the business, the formal,

262 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

and divinely ordained mission, of the Church, as such,
to work upon and save the world, by truth and by
the power of its holy character — to represent God
and Christ and heaven — then nothing can be more
important than that she should be kept perfectly dis-
tinct from the world.

But how — in what spirit — is this distinction to be
maintained ? Certainly not as lording it over the
common conscience, nor as denying the brotherhood
of all men, but for the purpose of promoting the
purity of the Church herself, and fitting her to work
more effectually for the salvation of men ; not for the
purpose of keeping the world out, but of getting men
in. If the Church, therefore, is presented before the
world in a certain aspect of isolation, it is an isola-
tion of love, and purity, and duty ; she separates her-
self because only thus can she remain what she is,
while she reaches out her arms, and lifts her voice —
in short, exerts all the energies of her love and wis-
dom— in behalf of the recreant world.

Let us now apply the principles we have reached
to actual life. The profound distinction between the
Church and the world is both enduring and every-
where applicable. It applies to all the spheres of
life and to all its various forms, and can never be-
come obsolete. A Christian man in his business can
never ignore the fact that he is a Christian. He has
repudiated the principles of the world, and, by enter-
ing the Church, has adopted the will of God as the
very basis of his dealings. If he does not deal hon-
estly, both in the spirit and the letter — if he has only
an honest outside covering meanness and trickery —
he is passing the line and getting over on the ground

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 263

of the world ; and in doing so he is ceasing to be a
force to operate against the sin, and for the salvation,
of the world.

A Christian's business must be pervaded by the spirit
of Christianity ; for if his conversion is a true one it
reaches, it sends its light and purity, down into the
depths of his business ; it withdraws him from every
act or enterprise which is base in itself, and demands
that even that which is lawful and right shall be bap-
tized with the spirit of true religion.

The same is true of the pleasures of life, its amuse-
ments. If they disregard the distinction between
the Church and the world, as we have explained it,
they are wicked and to be denounced. And here
two points are to be kept in mind : the first is, that
in their principles, in their nature, our p'easures are
to be on the right side of the line running between
the world and the Church ; that is, they are not to
be the offspring of lust, of the carnal mind, but en-
tirely conformable to the spiritual mind — such in
their nature as the spirittcal mind will not condemn.

The second point is, that even supposing the pleas-
ure is not directly sinful, yet if advantage is to be
taken of it by the world — if the world has used it and
continues to use it as one of its pleasures, so that it
has the name and appearance of sin — we must sacri-
fice our inclination for it. This is the principle of
Christian expediency laid down by Paul when he
says, " All things are lawful, but all things are not
expedient ;" and " If meat make my brother to offend,
I will eat no meat while the world stands." The
meat here spoken of was part of what had been of-
fered in sacrifice to idols. In reality, it was none the

264 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

worse for that, but there were weak persons who
would have understood the eating of such meat to be
a sanction of idol-worship, and the influence of the
Christian, so eating, would have passed over to the
benefit of the world.

But let us now test by these principles the question
of fashionable amusements, and in doing so let us
recall the inspired definition of the world or of world-
liness given in the first Epistle of John, namely, " All
that is in the world, the lust ofthe flesh, the lust of the
eyes, and the pride of life." Now the " pride of life "
we will drop, as relating to matters of business
and of public life as managed by the world. The
other parts of the apostle's definition of the world or
worldliness, namely, " the lust of the flesh and the
lust of the eyes," must refer to the world's pleasures,
its enjoyments. The "lust of the flesh" must de-
scribe the sinful gratification of our passions and ap-
petites, the life of the natural man on its animal side ;
and " the lust of the eyes " must refer to those grati-
fications in which the eye is the chief instrument,
and where vanity is fed by showing ourselves off to
others, or we find our enjoyment in being spectators
of their vain display. This is the character of the
world, then, in its pleasures, and, of course, especially
in those which are formally such. They are the
means of impurely gratifying the passions, for only
such gratification is lust ; and they are the means
of titillating the vanity, which is called by the apostle
" the lust of the eyes." Whatever amusements, there-
fore, are animated by these "lusts of the flesh and of
the eyes " are of the world, and not of, but opposed
to, the Father ; and whosoever loves the world, and

THE CHURCH AND THE WORLD HOSTILE. 265

shows it by yielding himself to these even so-called
lighter forms of " lust," is breaking away from the
Church, is crossing the line into the world, is chang-
ing his position by changing his character, if, indeed,
he was not already out of the Church in his heart.

Thus tested, what becomes of the theater, the act-
ual theater, not the possible one of the possibly fan-
ciful millennium ? The Christian who attends it has
for the time given his influence, if not his person,
which is a temple of the living God, to " the lust of
the flesh and the lust of the eyes." He is supporting
the favorite institution of all the worst characters ;
and, even supposing the Christian himself to maintain
his own personal purity, he is still eating the meat
which is making his brother to offend. Tested by
these principles, what becomes of the pretensions of
the dance to be a harmless amusement ? In its worst
forms, the better part of the world admits it to be
impure, even obscene ; and in its most harmless form,
where there is any mixture of the sexes, the least that
can be said against it is that the secret of its pleasure
is " the lust of the eyes," the variety of physical dis-
play. Can this vanity, this " lust of the eyes," be
consistent with the deep purity required by Chris-
tianity ? Nay, the question is already settled. This
" lust " of the eyes, this showing ourselves as a feast
for the eyes of others, is " of the world." The ordi-
nary dancer, therefore, in the very act of dancing, de-
serts the principle that binds him to the Father, and
adopts that which identifies him with the world, with
that portion of mankind who hate the Father and
hate Christ, though, perhaps, without being at all con-
scious of it — so unconscious of it as to be angry at

266 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINQ.

being told of it. The gorgeous vision of vanity blinds
them ; bewildered by their earthly delight, they do
not see that they have dropped their role and gone
back to the world.

A similar result will follow an examination of
games of chance, or the reading of bad books. The
books destroy our taste for what is spiritual, and thus
draw us to the wrong side of the line, and the games
cultivate in us a false sense of the importance of
luck and chance ; they educate us for gambling, pre-
pare us to yield to temptation in their line, and
familiarize us in sheer amusement with the very
games with which gambling inflicts its dire devastat-
ing curses upon the land, and thus contribute to
remove, to mitigate, the offensiveness of crime, and
make it attractive. And this proximity to evil, this
tampering with it, makes the line between world
and Church dim, and we are in danger of forgetting
that any such line exists.

Besides all this, all these forms of amusement are
known as worldly ; they have always, in all ages, been
claimed by the world and repudiated by the Church.
And even supposing them to be of only doubtful
propriety for Christians, and that the Church were
even equally divided about them, yet, in the matter
of duty to God and the safety of the soul, it were
well to be at least strict enough. It is certain that
in such amusements the world is in the majority ;
it gives its own spirit to them, and they are of
such a character as to suit the world exactly. The
great danger is that a confusion of the boundaries
between the Church and the world at such points
will beget further confusion, and the Church-mem-

THE CHURCH AND THE WOULD HOSTILE. z6y

bers — aye, and the Church itself — may get out to sea
so far as to lose their hearings and drift hither and
thither in the company of the world, in danger of
final wreck.

It will not do to say, in reply to these cautions,
that " to the pure all things are pure." The misfor-
tune for such an argument, and indeed for us, is, that
the highest attainable purity in this world is not
absolute, but relative. Angels, that have no flesh
and blood, and hence no earthly passions, might move
through scenes of frolic and dissipation, and be in
no danger of pollution ; but men and women, even
the holiest, are yet encased in flesh and blood, and
may be moved by temptation.

Besides, those who mingle in fashionable amuse-
ments are certainly not the purest and most advanced
Christians, but rather those in whom religion has
only reached the life of spiritual babyhood, and in
whom even that tiny, infantile, hesitating existence
is not vigorously conscious, but overlaid with world-
liness, and to whom the dance, or the game of cards,
or the theater, was the last feather needed to crush
the camel, already overloaded, to the earth — the last
step away from the Saviour and from his Church,
and over the line, now faded from the dim eye, into
the world.

From the very nature of the case the division
between the Church and the world, instead of being
destined to fade away with the progress of religion,
must continue until there shall be no human being
left to whom the title "world" can be justly applied,
and the hitherto dividing line will become the boundary
of the earth. The ideal of this separation is found

268 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

realized in the two states brought to our view, by
Scripture, in the future life. In heaven are gathered
only spirits that are holy — into hell, only those that
are wicked. Here, in the highest perfection is
the separation of the Church and the world. The
principles of the Church have culminated in heaven,
those of the world have found their completeness in
the realm of woe ; for the principles of the Church
are only those of heaven in a state of growth toward
perfection, and the principles of the world are those
of perdition, not yet carried out to their ultimate
results. These two sets of principles, thus perfected
in heaven and in the regions of despair, and repre-
sented in the Church and in the world in this state
of being, are, as we have said, in conflict.

That the Church may maintain the conflict effect-
ively, as her conquests advance and multiply, she
must keep her organization compact ; there must be
no straggling ; the esprit du coifs must be complete ;
all her members must be animated by one spirit ; the
priests at her altars must tamper with no strange
fire ; her sons and daughters must indulge in no
pleasures not congenial to her spirit and principle ;
they must not be like the Israelites who did eat
and drink and rose up to play — and this distinctive-
ness of organization in the Church must be kept up
until the last worldling is brought out of the desert of
the world into the companionship and green pastures
of the Church. When that time shall come the
Church militant shall give place to the Church tri-
umphant, and the victories of the commonwealth of
Israel on earth shall be crowned in heaven — crowned
by that eternal separation between sin and holiness

THE CHURCH AXD THE WORLD HOSTILE. 269

which had been typified on earth in the division and
struggle between the Church and the world.

We have now shown that the distinction between
the world and the Church is fundamental ; that it is the
difference between the carnal and spiritual ; nay, that
at root and prophetically it is the difference between
heaven and hell. The world's principle is to be
without God ; is, indeed, enmity to God ; it is the
lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of
life — carnality, or vanity, or both. The Church's
principle is to be entirely devoted to God, and to
have holiness for its law instead of lust.

We have seen that this diversity and contradiction
of principle between the two enters into business
and into every form of life ; and that if a business is
sinful in itself and a Christian engages in it, he goes
over to the world ; or if the business is lawful and
proper, and he engages in it in the temper and spirit
of the world, he deserts the Church in fact, whether
he does it in form or not. We have also seen that
the spirit of the prevalent worldly amusements is in
some cases a spirit of fleshly lust, in others of vanity,
or " lust of the eyes," and in still others that they
are at least doubtful in their nature, tending to draw
us out of the way, so that to participate in them is
to breed a doubt in the public mind whether we
belong to Christ or to the world.

In conclusion, we can only exhort you to keep off
doubtful ground. Be sure that your conduct can bear
the light of the Scriptures. Where there is a doubt,
use it against your pecuniary profit or pleasure, and in
favor of your soul. Do what you can to make the
distinction between sin and holiness as broad and as

270 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

high as possible ; so live that saints will not be mis-
taken for worldlings or worldlings for saints. Let
the Church be such as not to be mistaken for a
]3leasure market, or the temple of mammon for the
Church ; so that when the Master shall come to his
vineyard looking for grapes he may not have to
complain that it has brought forth wild grapes, goodly
in unskilled eyes, but unfit for the press.

The world, as God made it, is beautiful — a gorgeous
ladder on which the feet of contemplation and prayer
may rise to God. The world of mankind, which God
so loved as to give his only begotten Son, is to be
loved by every Christian, and its salvation is to
be faithfully and lovingly sought ; each individual
worldly man and woman is to be loved, as an immor-
tal spirit ; but the world, the wicked human heart,
under the control of carnal and spiritual lusts, and
warring to conquer the kingdom of God, is to be re-
sisted, and whatever is even remotely likely to com-
promise the Church with it, or in the least degree to
bring its reign of passion in upon the Church, must
be resisted at every peril. That is the world which
hates Christ, and which Christians must hate.

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 27 1

XL

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD :

IMPORTANCE OF DEEP AND ABIDING IMPRESSIONS
CONCERNING ITS REALITY AND NEARNESS.

For he endured as seeing Him who is invisible. — Heb. xi, 27.

THE apostle here teaches us that the faith of
Moses, by which he was fitted to become the
leader of Israel out of Egypt, by which through in-
numerable obstacles he persevered until he had fin-
ished his mission, by which he was inspired with the
most astonishing courage and supported under incal-
culable labors, was the result of deep and abiding
impressions of the reality and presence of spiritual
things. He was strong and bold and persistent ; he
ventured every thing and despised all opposition,
because he seemed to see Him who is invisible ; that
was his faith ; it was such that he realized the pres-
ence of God just as fully, just as assuredly, as if he
had actually and constantly beheld him.

There is an almost universal opinion in favor of
the existence of a spiritual world. That opinion has
come down through ages and generations', and noth-
ing is able to rid it of its place in the human mind.
But the evil is that the opinion is too much a mere
opinion, and does not make an impression corre-

272 THE JSTE W LIFE DA WNING.

spondent with its dignity and importance. What is
wanted is that the existence of the spiritual world
should not only be admitted, but that it should be
felt ; that it should, with its powerful influence, enter
into our every-day life, as a fact quite as fully real-
ized as trade, or commerce, or art, or science ; and
that it should control us with a power much greater
than all of these together.

This is the point to be achieved. Now, while, we
confess that we walk in the midst of spiritual beings
who are invisible ; while we acknowledge that within
the space of a moment of time there is a spiritual
world into which multitudes are hourly entering ;
while we hold that this spiritual state, so near to us,
is eternal ; while we know full well that our present
state is but temporary at best, and very uncertain ;
while we admit, further, that our present life is only
a school and a trial for the spiritual state which awaits
us ; while we believe that God himself, the ever-
blessed Father, is constantly present with us, nearer
to us than our own thoughts : yet these greatest of
all truths — great as God, ample as eternity — impress
men generally less than the material world, less than
merchandise, house, and land, and the shows and
fashions of the world.

It were well to inquire into this mystery ; to seek
the explanation of this most monstrous contradic-
tion ; to try and ascertain how it is that the trifles
of this world impress us more than the eternal reali-
ties of the spiritual world ; that men impress us more
than angels and spirits, and even more than God
himself — earth more than heaven or hell.

Our answer to this question is that the spiritual

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 2/3

world approaches man under difficulties. It finds
him, so to speak, surrounded and shut in by a triple
inclosure of mountain barriers, great and high : first,
there is the material world ; then there is his own
physical nature, his body ; and finally there is his
earthly, his perverted, mind. These mountain ranges
are concentric about the soul of man. If he himself
will rightly work, he will successively ascend these
heights, and find that, once overcome, they are the
ridges which elevate him to the skies — that lift him
to lofty communion with the spiritual. But, on the
other hand, if he himself rests contentedly shut up
within these inclosures, how shall the spiritual world
reach him ? Or, to drop this simile and take another,
the physical world, the human body, and the
mind that inhabits it, were intended to form trans-
parent lenses in the telescope through which the
human soul should see the constellation of the spirit-
ual world, and bring them very, very near ; but when
the soul is taken up with inferior things, is looking,
that is, rather at than through the lenses, they become
untransparent, black as so much ebony. We mean
that we only see the higher world through the lower
when we try to do so, when we consider earth as the
means, and heaven, the spiritual world, as the end.

In other words, and all figure apart, we find the
importance of deep impressions of a spiritual world
magnified by their very difficulty. We contemplate
the visible world both with the senses and with the
intellect, whereas the spiritual world is shut out from
our senses altogether ; its gates do not open ; its angels
do not appear at call of sense ; it can only be entered
bv means of the intellect, and if the intellect, the

IS

274 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

spirit of man, become materialized, sensualized, it is
incapacitated for such flights of contemplation, for
such studies and dispositions, as bring it consciously
into the vicinity of the spiritual world. And this
we find to be the actual state of men generally. The
mind, instead of escaping from bodily trammels,
and throwing off earthly weights, and rising into the
certain conviction of a spiritual life, is rather loaded
down under the earth and the body. From child-
hood we are familiar with the body and its related
matter ; we see it, feel it, hear it, and neither see, feel,
nor hear, at least directly, the spiritual world, nor
God, nor angel, nor disembodied spirit. We are
scarcely conscious of that noble and glorious pair of
win^s with which the Creator intended we should
scale the mountains of earth and explore the celestial
paradise ; they lie folded up within us as compactly
as those of the embryo bird in the egg, and the dan-
ger is that the egg will rot and the wings perish be-
fore they can be brought to use. The great question
is, How shall we reverse the order of our present
action ? How shall we compel the senses to fall in
behind the intellect, and the intellect, shaking off the
nightmare of money and fashion and passion and am-
bition, that has been riding it so long, direct its course
to higher and nobler things, even to the spiritual ?

We reply that this is to be done only by a certain
course of spiritual discipline. We must rise into the
realm of spirit by spiritual arguments, by spiritual
contemplations, by imbibing the spiritual life, and by
acting upon the infinite importance of that world.

Let us, then, further and more specifically indicate
how deep and strong impressions of the spiritual

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 2J$

world are to be obtained. First, we should fortify
the mind with all the arguments for the existence of
that other world. We are intellectual beings, and must,
therefore, have a foundation of reason to stand upon.

It would be well to reflect, for instance, that if
there be no spiritual world and no future state for
man, the wisdom of God cannot be vindicated in
man's creation. Where would be the wisdom of
making such a being as man — with such powers as
he has, with his creative imagination, his power of
invention, his capacity for the accumulation of mul-
tiform knowledge, his power of research into himself
and into all the realms of nature and of thought, his
wonderful skill in reasoning, and his power to grow
indefinitely in virtue and to improve without limit in
his intellect — where, we ask, would be the wisdom of
creating a being with a mind wide as the sky and as
beautiful, fitted to advance throughout all eternity,
only to be, after all, snuffed out in death ? Even
human wisdom observes some proportion between
means and end. A soap-bubble is made by a whiff;
a toy that is to last but a day is made in a minute ; a
watch that is expected to last a life-time is a work of
skill and pains ; but if there be no future for man,
the folly has been committed of a great, an infinite,
waste of moral and intellectual wealth, much greater
than if Phidias had chiseled his sublime statues to be
destroyed the moment in which they were finished,
than if Milton had committed his glorious epic to the
flames when he had just written its last word.

Again, the idea that it is a possibility that there
is no future worjd, impeaches the consistency of the
Creator as seriously as his wisdom. If we are not

2j6 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

immortal, and destined to live when we have left the
body, why has God implanted in us the wish and the
hope that we shall ? Whence this secret dread and
this inward longing ? Why have men in all ages and
in all countries believed in a future state ? Why have
we a moral constitution which tells us of right and
wrong, and points to a future in which we are to an-
swer for the deeds done in the body ? O, if we die
wholly and forever when the body dies, it was not
only inconsistent, but cruel beyond the worst cruelty
of men, to create us with longings, wishes, hopes,
and mighty arguments for eternal existence! The
hope of the soul, therefore, for a future life is God's
own handwriting, his internal description and prom-
ise of the coming external, eternal reality.

Again, think how God's justice is assailed by the
idea that there is no future for us. If our existence
here is regarded as incomplete and to be completed
hereafter, all is rational and consistent with justice.
Punishment and reward which are due may linger,
but they must come sooner or later, or else justice is
violated. Think what numbers of men have lived
lives of prosperity in sin, have shed oceans of blood
to gratify ambition, have gone through a hundred
gory fields in triumph without a scratch, have gath-
ered wealth from the desolated homes of poverty in
unjust wars, waged, not for man, nor for justice, but
for themselves, and have lived in fortune and gayety
to the end of their lives ! Is there no world where
they shall disgorge, where they shall reap the whirl-
wind which they had sown in the wind ? Think of
the good and true, the virtuous and the God-fearing,
who have wilted in poverty and oppression, who have

TEE SPIBITUAL WORLD. 277

suffered and died under the strokes of cruel injustice,
and whose goodness and suffering have here received
no reward and no compensation. Is there no remu-
neration, no readjustment, for these ? Shall not a
future judgment and another world piece out the in-
equalities of the present state ? If we are permitted
to regard this world as unfinished without another,
and to hold that its wanting, its missing, half lies
over in the spiritual state where God shall balance
human accounts in favor of suffering innocence and
against guilty success, then he is just, as our nature
demands he should be. But if the thread of human
affairs breaks off suddenly and forever at the end of
this life, let the wicked rejoice, and let suffering virtue
bewail its lot, and die accusing or denying eternal
justice.

There is another world ; there is a spiritual and
eternal state God's justice asserts it ; his consistency
demands it ; the assertion of the contrary sets at
naught and turns to folly infinite wisdom.

But besides these considerations and such as these,
let us earnestly ?'eflect upon the eternal world, upon
the spiritual region, which hangs and floats and soars
all about us. Let us remember that we are near it.
Although we are clothed with flesh and blood, yet it
is only a spirit, a ghost, that is so clothed, and it is
not at all less wonderful that there should be spirits
in bodies than spirits without bodies. Nay, apart
from our experience, it is more probable that spirits
should rans;e the earth without flesh and blood than
with them. These disembodied spirits, the holy
angels, are constantly passing out from the courts of
heaven into our world, are crossing the line between

278 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

the two worlds, and our friends, by death, are every
moment crossing the same line into the invisible state.
Who can tell what crowds, in opposite directions, are
meeting and passing each other ?

Look for a moment at a man who stands on this
very border-line itself, waiting for a certain darkly-
clad personage to conduct him over. I remember
once to have stood on the narrow point of land sepa-
rating the Chesapeake Bay from the Potomac River.
The ground was so narrow that I bathed one hand in
the river and the other in the bay at the same moment ;
the two were united by my person. Thus is it with
a dying man — he touches both worlds at the same
instant. One side of his life feels the mysterious
breath of the spirit clime ; the other is blownon and
shaken by the storms of the present. One ear
hears even yet the clang of earth's discordances ;
the other is closed to all save the harmonies of
heaven. He is disembarking from a brief sail on
a narrow river, and at the same moment launch-
ing out on the broad and boundless ocean. He
is shaking hands on one side with weeping friends,
as a farewell greeting, and on the other side is reach-
ing a spiritual hand to waiting angels, who offer their
salutations. Hast thou been near to the bed of the
dying ? If so, thou hast been near to eternity, to the
man who was just making the mysterious step into
the strange land of spirits. The spirit's ear might
have heard the gate close after him.

It is not needful, however, to be near the dying in
order to be in the vicinity of the spiritual world.
All nearness does not consist of close location. There
is another thing which brings us nigh, namely, rapid

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 279

transmission, whether of intelligence or of the person.
Railroads have brought Washington and Chicago
nearer to each other than Washington and Philadel-
phia were without them ; ocean steamers have dimin-
ished the distance between the New World and the
Old ; the Atlantic telegraph has connected Fifth Ave-
nue and Regent-street like parts of the same thorough-
fare ; and we may whisper across the ocean almost as
easily as school children across their benches. Thus,
though we cannot tell how far it is from earth to
heav«en, measured by miles, yet we know that mes-
sages are rapidly transmitted and answers as quickly
received. And we know, too, that as the lightning
on the telegraph wire makes no account of miles, so
the departing Christian quickly finds his home in
the skies. To be absent from the body is to be
present with the Lord, for the Lord hath said to
the departing, "This day shalt thou be with me in
Paradise."

Nor must we forget, brethren, that by the neces-
sity of our nature we are pilgrims toward that world
of spirits. Our pilgrimage does not begin when we
die. That is a new form of the journey, which ends
the instant it begins. The soul had been in flight,
now it folds its wings. Our very birth starts us on
our journey to the spiritual world. Life is a high-
way— a railroad — and whether we stop at its inns for
pleasure, or at its markets for traffic, still, however
paradoxically, we travel on; we only seem to stop.
Life is a voyage ; the wind never ceases, is never
ahead ; we make fast knots, and if we suffer ship-
wreck, we still reach our journey's end and find
entrance into the spiritual world. In short, we are

280 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

ever moving toward our destination. Wind and
tide, sails and steam, ever lend their utmost power.
Whether we forget or remember, whether we act
rationally or irrationally, we still move toward our
destination ; and if we leap from our place in the
ship or the cars, we only reach the world of spirits
the earlier.

With thoughts and arguments, therefore, we must
seek to establish ourselves in the persuasion, in the
firm and vivid conviction, of the spiritual world — in
the feeling and persuasion that such a world is near
us, is all about us — until we are fully possessed with
the feeling, " Thou, God, seest me ; " until we realize
in our inmost soul that angels are present in the
Church ; that the Church itself is only a part of a
moving procession, one end of which is already on
the other side of the fences of earth ; and that all that
is material, though opaque in itself, is only a prism in
which the glorious light of heaven is dissolved to
suit the weakness of our spiritual vision.

But such a state of mind, such a conscious living
among spiritual realities, such a touching of the jasper
walls and door knobs of heaven with our very hands,
and such talking with its inhabitants through the
glorious open windows, such deep impressions of the
reality and nearness of the spiritual world, cannot
be achieved by any merely intellectual or logical proc-
ess, no matter how profound or skillful the logic, or
how creative or realizing the imagination. Argu-
ment may coolly lay the foundations in the mind ;
imagination may rear the temple of belief on this
foundation into a wonder of beauty and grandeur,
but the soul will never tenant its own house in ear-

THE SPIRITUAL WOULD. 28 1

nest until the heart, with its feelings and its disposi-
tions, becomes deeply interested and thoroughly
penetrated.

It is no desecration of the subject to quote the old
line, "It is home where the heart is." This is true in
the higher, as well as in the lower, sense. The lisrht
of heaven will indeed enter through the door of the
intellect, but will not remain if the heart be not in-
terested. If the breast be cold, the divine illumina-
tion will end with the movement of the argument.
If we would abide in a spiritual atmosphere, if we
would feel that the world of living men, and the
world of angels and disembodied spirits, interpene-
trate each other, as the pure water dwells in the
coarse sponge, as melody and fragrance pervade the
air, as thought inhabits the brain, and love the heart,
we must cherish the dispositions that are spiritual.
On the keen and polished edge of our logic, among
the stately and gorgeous pinnacles of our imagina-
tion, must glitter the electrical play of warm and
devout affections. In other words, in words of Scrip-
ture, not many mighty men, not many of the wise
of this world — who are wise or mighty after this
world's fashion merely — live consciously in another
world while inhabiting bodies in this. The visions
of the spiritual realm are the privilege only of such
as are in sympathy with it. He who has learned to
regard the honor of God as higher than that of kings,
who has come to feel that money is trash compared
with the treasure of sanctified affections, who has
been absorbed into the spirit of the divine law until
his very passions largely partake of it and are con-
trolled by it ; who seeks and wins, in short, the

282 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

graces of the Spirit, "love, joy, gentleness, meekness,
faith," and adds to his faith, virtue, spiritual knowl-
edge, temperance, patience, brotherly kindness, and
charity ; he finds these dispositions to form a charm
which invites, a magnetism which attracts, the spir-
itual world. To have these mental traits is to have
the very state of mind that makes the spiritual world
real ; they are the oxygen of the spiritual atmosphere
in the world of the soul, without which living, divine
realities can have no existence. If the soul has thus
arrayed and adorned itself, if it has thus morally
risen, the transformation has been effected which
has conferred the new spiritual senses to which the
spiritual world has disclosed its solid reality and
reported its immediate presence. To be like heaven
here is to be sure that heaven is, and to be conscious
that earth is its ante-chamber.

" Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall see
God." And wherever such a transformation has
taken place, and such convictions, and such holy
familiarity with the spiritual world exist, it has been
effected by means of holy meditations, devout studies,
and earnest prayers. Prayer wings the intellect for
its heavenward flight ; prayer steadies the imagina-
tion, as the ballast does the ship, and, at the same
time, puts on the triple force of steam, wind, and
oars; prayer is the storm that purines the soul's
firmament, and thus makes ready for the entrance of
the spiritual world ; prayer is the calm that clarifies,
and thus lengthens, the vision of the praying soul
through the peaceful elements ; in short, prayer is
converse with the spiritual world, and in proportion
as it deepens in sincerity, rises in fervor, and into

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 283

realization, it brings the two worlds together in happy
and conscious embrace.

In conclusion, allow us to glance at the natural
result of such impressions of the reality and pres-
ence of the spiritual world as we have now been
describing. And first, the effect will be to make the
future world the chief and ever present motive of our
actions. Earthliness pervades the actions of worldly
men, for the earth is only present to their minds.
But here to the spiritual man are all the realities of
the eternal future ; they have their dwelling in the
mind, and are the chief weight in determining the
whole conduct. How can I act the part of the world-
ling, with the spiritual world open to my view ? If
I am tempted to swerve, how can I do this great
wickedness and sin against God, whom, by faith, I
almost see ? The man who realizes the spiritual world
is, like Paul in the epistle to the Hebrews, compassed
about with a great cloud of witnesses, angels and
glorified spirits. They look down on him from the
amphitheater of heaven ; he feels conscious of their
gaze, and he would as soon think of doing a wicked
act here in the Church, before the eyes of the congre-
gation, as in the presence of this cloud of witnesses.

Another effect of deep impressions of a spiritual
world is to wean us more and more from sin. When
our impressions of the spiritual world were only a
mere opinion, a frail opinion without roots, the outer
world ruled us, and weaned us more and more from
the spiritual, until indeed the spiritual was likely to
be reduced to a mere figment. So when the myste-
rious realm of the Spirit asserted its existence, and
grew more and more into reality, and came home

284 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

with warmer life to our hearts until the very angels
seemed near to us, our souls were drawn off by these
up-looming spiritual things ; we were weaned away
from the gay trash, and empty, tawdry rag-finery of
the world. The gleaming spires of the new Jerusalem
caught our view, and earthly palace and temple tum-
bled ; the music of paradise entered our ear, and the
world's music became a great blare of discordant
sound. The world's clutch of the heart was more
and more loosened ; it perished more and more under
the radiance of the invisible state. And as the
second land of promise broke on the view, the soul
cried out,

" The goodly land I see,

With peace and plenty blest ;
A land of sacred liberty

And endless rest.
There milk and honey flow,

And oil and wine abound ;
And trees of life forever grow,

With mercy crowned.

" There dwells the Lord our King,

The Lord our Righteousness,
Triumphant o'er the world and sin,

The Prince of Peace ;
On Zion's sacred height

His kingdom still maintains ;
And, glorious, with his saints in light

Forever reigns.

" He keeps his own secure ;

He guards them by his side ;
Arrays in garment white and pure

His spotless bride ;
With groves of living joys,

With streams of sacred bliss,
With all the fruits of paradise,

He still supplies."

THE SPIRITUAL WORLD. 285

" Hail, Abrah'm's God and mine !

(I join the heavenly lays,)
All might and majesty are thine,

And endless praise."

And now, friends, what are your deepest impres-
sions ? Have they respect to money ? to pleasure ?
to any thing that can be measured with a foot-rule or
a yardstick ? that can be sounded by lead and line ? to
any thing that submits to the test of the senses or
of earth's philosophy ? that time's storms can wreck ?
that time's moth and rust can corrupt ? that time's
reptiles can poison ? that the sting of death can wound ?
If so, if such are your strongest impressions, what
are your opinions ? For, if it is your opinion that
the invisible and spiritual is higher and grander than
the things of sense, and your ruling, your most pow-
erful, impressions, are yet the other way, then the
time is coming when this weak opinion concerning
the spiritual world will rouse itself into horrid life
and avenge itself. Death will show to the worldling
the wickedness of believing in another world, of judg-
ing rightly, and yet having all his powerful impres-
sions, all his controlling feelings, devoted to sense.
Horrible will be the reckoning of that final hour !

But art thou, Christian brother, fully, deeply im-
pressed with the spirit-world ? Then live nearer to it ;
let your daily life witness your efforts to bring heaven
more and more to realization in your heart, and to
show it with increasing clearness in your life, a life
freed from the power of every form of lust. Heaven
alone is real. This world is only a shadow, shorten-
ing ever, giving refreshment or death to those who sit
in it, but, like other shadows, passing away.

286 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

XII.

EASTER JOY.

Saying, the Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon. —
Luke xxiv, 34.

WHAT a morning for the disciples of Jesus was
that of the first Easter ! Death had come
down like a blight on all their prospects. Pie whom
they had followed and honored as the Messiah had
fallen by the hand of treachery and violence, aided
by judicial authority. The King of Israel had been
accused and put to death as a malefactor. The
women of his train had seen him perish like a crim-
inal on the cross ; they had followed him with hope-
less sorrow to the sepulcher to embalm him. The
men of his company were scattered like frightened
sheep.

They were ignorant of the nature of their Lord's
kingdom. They supposed it had been his aim to set
up again the Jewish monarchy with greatly increased
magnificence. So deep was their darkness, that when
Jesus said, " Destroy this temple and in three days I
will raise it up," and again, " The Son of man must
be put to death and rise again from the dead," his
meaning did not dawn upon their souls. They per-
haps set these things down among the spiritual mys-

EASTER JOY. 287

teries in which their Master so frequently indulged.
His death was like a sudden putting out of the lights
in a splendid picture-gallery. The rising glory of
the new Messianic kingdom in which his friends were
to be honored and his enemies punished was snuffed
out in a moment, and the whole body of the disciples
were stunned and left in the dark to grope their way
they knew not how or whither.

Jesus lay dead and buried. The Roman seal was.
on his grave, and the guard watched it. A brief
career of unheard-of brilliancy and of glorious prom-
ise had apparently ended in dishonor. But who can
depict the change which Sunday morning brought ?
The disciples, male and female, were overwhelmed
with disappointment and despair, but they had not
lost their love for the Master. Early on Sunday
morning, as the sun began to streak the East, Mary
Magdalen and the other women were at the sepul-
cher, and so were Peter and John. How could Mary
forget the love which forgave so much ? How could
Peter forget the Lord whom in his extremity he had
so basely denied ? How could John forget the bosom
on which he had so delighted to lean, now cold on
the floor of the sepulcher ? Here they were, and
what strange developments awaited them ! The sep-
ulcher is open, the body is gone, the angels are
here to utter the magic word " Risen." Ay, and,
most wonderful, Jesus himself appears !

Easter has dawned on the world. From the East
the natural sun is just coming up. The East is the
land of the morning. Easter is the new morning of
the world now dawning out of the Lord's open sepul-
cher. What palace of king or temple of wealth or

288 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

art is so glorious as was the grave that morni rg !
That morning not only came heaven down to earth,
but it entered the grave, and ceiled and paved and
wreathed it with celestial glory.

And when that word, " He is risen," reached the
disciples, one after another, in humble cottage, in
market-place, in the temple, in Jerusalem, in Bethany,
in Nazareth, in Capernaum, what a joy it stirred !
what a sense of triumph it awakened !

We call your attention to the joy of that morning.
Our theme is the joy of Easter.

First of all, it is the joy of victory. The ministry
of our Saviour on earth was of the nature of a con-
test. On the one side were the powers of darkness,
represented by the scribes and Pharisees, with the
civil authorities, arraying on their side the wealth, the
social position, the learning, the fashion, the cun-
ning, and the corruption of the world. Of these
forces the god of this world was the master and leader.
On the other side was Jesus, with the few obscure
friends he had gathered about him.

He had come into the world professedly to set up
a new kingdom, whose law was to be truth, whose
life purity and justice, and whose bond of union not
power, but love. To support his royal pretensions
this king claimed a divine character. He professed
to be invested with all the attributes of deity. Speak-
ing of the eternal Father in connection with himself,
with strange boldness he said " We :" " We are one."
He demanded that all men should honor him even
as they honored the Father. And yet his power, as
he used it in the great struggle with his foes, was
clothed in the lowliest form. In contrast with

EASTER JOY. 289

his claim to be universal king, he was the reputed
son of a carpenter ; he was destitute of the world's
learning ; he was poor, not having a place where to
lay his head ; he had his friends and companions
among the lowly and ignorant. His alleged divine
power revealed itself, indeed, in splendid forms ; but
the splendor was moral. He went out against his
enemies not with shield and spear, not with horses
and chariots, not with the noise of battle and with
garments of warriors rolled in blood, but with the
weapons of moral wisdom. His words were weightier
and sharper than drawn swords in assailing error ;
they were sweeter than honey and brighter than the
sun to the heart of the disconsolate. His extempore
discourses were words for all coming ages ; they shot
down to the last times, the older the brighter. " He
spake as one having authority, and not as the scribes."
The people said, Surely " never man spake like this
man." He overwhelmed his enemies, and left them
speechless under the loving blows of his heavenly
philosophy and logic.

But, instead of being convinced, they only gnashed
their teeth, and watched the more eagerly that they
might entangle him in his talk. To his moral wis-
dom he added a sublime purity of life, which defied
the microscope of the most malicious criticism. He
combated them lovingly and tenderly, at once with the
holiness and the wisdom of heaven. But they cared
for none of these things. Their hearts under his
sermon on the mount, under his parables, under his
heavenly life, remained cold as a stone.

To his moral wisdom and purity he added super-
natural powers. We can conceive of these powers

19

290 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

being employed differently from what they were.
Elijah, in his contest with the priests of Baal, over-
whelmed the enemies of the living God with phys-
ical force. The fierce anger of the prophet, like the
fire that fell from heaven, and licked up the water"
from the trenches about the altar, and consumed
wood and sacrifice, fell on the priests of Baal and
destroyed them with great slaughter. Nay, even in
New Testament times one Elymas, the sorcerer who
withstood the right ways of the Lord, was struck
blind by a single word of an apostle, and Ananias
and Sapphira were smitten dead by superhuman
power.

Even Jesus himself, when set upon in Gethsemane
by a lawless band, and arrested, alluded to the use
of miraculous power for the purpose of personal
defense, while his enemies raged around him like
wild beasts ; and when Judas had just handed him
over to his foes with that kiss of immortal infamy,
Peter drew his sword to defend him, but Jesus said
to Peter, " Thinkest thou not that I could call to my
Father, and he would send me twelve legions of
angels ? " There spoke the Son of God ; his ideas of
power go beyond armies and earthly judgment seats.
He sees the array of supernatural powers, the ranks
of mighty beings that wait in mid-air to do the heav-
enly bidding ; but his kingdom is one of moral forces ;
truth, mercy, love, and purity shall war for him. The
word to Peter is, " Put up thy sword. We shall con-
tinue the contest as we began it. I have used, and
will continue to use, miraculous power against my
foes, but it shall be in gentlest forms of love and
mercy."

EASTER JOY. 29 1

It is quite likely that if Jesus, instead of parables,
and gentle and compassionate entreaty, had launched
a thunderbolt or two now and then among the Phar-
isees and Sadducees, among the pompous scribes and
the self-conceited lawyers, and had made a few of
them bite the ground in sudden and terrible death —
it is very likely such arguments might have been
quite convincing. Multitudes would have been con-
verted. But such conversions, the result of physical
force, are not what Christianity seeks. Rome has
tried this method of forcible persuasion, and worn it
out. Her children were born to her from the wheel
and the rack, and hence she was hated as a maternal
monster. She demanded confession with fire and
fagot, and received in response from the brave,
defiance, from the cowardly a craven lie. She would
fight the powers of darkness with their own weapons,
and hence won only worldly and diabolic victories.

Not thus did Jesus conduct the contest. When
he would use his supernatural powers against his
foes, his divinity is yoked with the gentlest, tender-
est aims. He touches the dead visual nerve, and
Bartimeus sees ; he puts the music of speech into the
dumb throat, and awakens the echoes once more in
the slumbering labyrinths of hearing. Does he use
the power of the Creator in turning a few loaves and
fishes into abundant stores of food ? it is only when
his heart is moved with pity for the hungry and
fainting multitude. Does he rebuke the very ele-
ments and chain the sea into stillness by a word ? it
is only when his disciples are trembling with appre-
hension, and appealing, " Lord, carest thou not that
we perish ? "

292 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

Thus in love, wisdom, and power Jesus warred for
the establishment of his kingdom. He brought to
bear against the blindness, prejudice, earthliness,
lust, ambition, avarice, of his age — against Pharisee
and Sadducee — against Jew and Gentile — the wisdom
ane the power of heaven. He piled up the argu-
ments of inspiration and miracle until the rising heap
scraped and shook the very stars of heaven. He
threw all around his path the gorgeous jewels of
heavenly truth ; the dust of his tread was the seed
of immortal beauty, and -the flowers that sprang from
it shall never die. Before him fled the evil spirits,
exorcised at his word ; behind him rang the peans and
flowed the tears of the poor and the sick. He had
blessed and healed, and all around him was a moral
halo, which attested that he had come forth from his
Father ; and yet his foes were not won over. Some-
times the common people heard him gladly ; once they
were so far carried away by a fit of enthusiasm that
they would fain have caught him and made him a
king. On one occasion, so high rose the popular
admiration, that a triumphal entrance into Jerusa-
lem was awarded him ; the people set him on an
ass, scattered palm branches in his path, and spread
their garments before him, and the very children,
shouting Hosanna, bade him welcome to his kingdom
as the son of David. But all this was short-lived.
His enemies looked on with increasing spite, and
continued to work and plot.

The contest deepened. Jesus is approaching the
hour and power of darkness. Judas betrays him.
The mockery of a trial whitewashes a murderous
sentence. He dies a dishonoring death, and finally

EASTER JOT. 293

is buried. " The stone guards the sepulcher, the
Roman seal guards the stone, and the soldiers guard
the seal." Scribe and Pharisee, high-priest and Sad-
ducee, gnash their teeth and hiss, " Victory ! victory !
We have made an end of the son of the carpenter ;
we will have no beggar for our king. Sleep quietly,
son of Mary ! "

But softly : the end of the contest is not yet, though
near at hand. The Marys weep, with their love as
their sole legacy. The disciples are all like Peter
when he was sinking in the sea, only that there is
no Master at hand to reach them the needed aid.
They have ventured all, and lost. Hold ! not so.
He that emptied the grave of Lazarus can vacate
his own. The last and worst thing his enemies could
do to him was to take his life ; but what folly in them
to consider that a victory ! in his disciples to think it
a defeat ! What was death to him ? He accepted
the opiate of the cross and the sleep of the tomb,
and rested until the third day.

Then, at the moment of apparently confirmed de-
feat, the tide of battle turned, and Victory ! victory !
resounded among the scattered, astonished, and now
reviving disciples. The joy of the first Easter was
the joy of victory, the more glorious because unlooked-
for, both among the foes and friends of the risen
Jesus.

The joy of Easter is not only the joy of victory, it
is also the joy of a glorious, heroic consistency. It
is a sad word when one passing by shall look on us
and say, " Ye began to build, but were not able to
finish." It is a cutting rebuke, when we deserve it,
to be taunted with, " Ye did run well ; who did hin-

294 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

der you that ye should not obey the truth ? " " Con-
sistency," as the word is, " is a jewel," provided
always it be genuine.

There is, indeed, a mere mechanical consistency
which labors most painfully to present the aspect of
a dead level of uniformity in the life ; which calls all
improvement change, and all revolution, whether in
principle or action, vacillation. Such consistency
clings ever to the dead past, and, denouncing ad-
vancement as innovation and folly, dies in the ruts
in which it was born. If such people had been
heeded, the world would still have been traveling at
the rate of three miles an hour instead of thirty, pins
and needles would still have been made with hammer
and tongs, steam and lightning would have remained
still undomesticated, Columbus and Watt and Fulton
would have died in madhouses, and Luther and Cal-
vin and Wesley would have been knocked on the
head and put out of the way as soon as they appeared.
That proud, suicidal consistency, whose very suste-
nance is its deadliest poison, would have been pre-
served, and what a world we should have had — if in-
deed by this time we had had any !

True consistency is bold. It is the father of inno-
vation, the generator of wholesome and purifying
revolutions. It is logical, because honest. It sees
new results of the old truths, and boldly accepts them.
Such consistency has always marked the heroes and
martyrs of our race. This is eminently true in relig-
ion. When the Church has buried herself under
her accumulating forms and forgotten their meaning ;
when she has strangled truth in its gorgeous robes,
her heroes have looked through the raiment of ages

EAST Eli JOY. 295

and seen the life and blood of truth, and set them-
selves to develop and liberate it ; but straightway they
have been branded and hunted and sacrificed as here-
tics, as introducers of new doctrines. Not so ; they
had only got to the kernel of the old truth, and shown
it to men with its disfiguring covering stripped off,
an 1 in new and glorious applications.

When such a conspicuous example of noble man-
hood has come on the stasre, how interesting it has
been to watch his development ! As we follow his
career, either on the page of history or in the unfold-
ing drama of the present, how anxious we are that
the end may not blast the promise of the noble be-
ginning and midway progress. If he weakly falters,
and, having begun in the spirit ends in the flesh — falls
from the steep of glory which he had more than half
way climbed — how we sicken in contemplating the
mangled wreck !

Richard Cobden, who died bemoaned by the friends
of freedom throughout the world, was the champion
of human rights in England. He spent bis life labor-
ing to improve the condition of the masses. He
stood side by side with the poor. When he rose to
power the aristocratic party tried to buy him. Twice
did they offer him a place in the cabinet. To ac-
cept would have been to sell out and come down from
his lofty position. Had he done so his humiliation
would have sent a pang to every heart that loved
mankind. He nobly refused. He had met hostility ;
he could also withstand craft and blandishment and
bribe, and his nobly-sustained consistency yields even
now a thrill of joy to all hearts in sympathy with
human rights.

296 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

Or, to change the sphere of the illustration, sup-
pose grand old Luther had wilted before the Em-
peror at the Diet of Worms, and signed a recantation !
How painful is the very thought ! In that case Lu-
ther had not been Luther. There would then have
been no Luther in Church history. But no ; he said,
" Convince me out of the holy Scriptures." They
could not, and there he stood, a single monk against
two empires, the secular and the spiritual, greater
and stronger than both of them. And there he
stands yet, grown into a great mountain, rugged,
volcanic, explosive, rich with the trophies of battered
Rome, and crowned with the gratitude of all the Re-
formed Churches.

But the joy of Easter is the joy of a still higher
consistency. Jesus, to the Jews of his day, was also
an innovator. They had made void the law with
their traditions. They saw their expected Messiah
through eyes of greed and ambition. . He must, in
their view, be a plumed warrior and a sceptered
prince. Jesus would not be such, and yet he would
be Messiah, King. He warred with their errors to
the last, and died.

But the death which in other heroes of men was
the noble end of a consistent life seemed inconsistent
in him, or at least it would become inconsistent if he
remained under the dominion of death. He had said
he must rise from the tomb. He had said he had
power to lay his life down and to take it again ; ay,
more than that, he was the Lord of the living and
the dead ; the world was made by him, and he was in
the beginning with God. He had declared he would
judge the world, gathering all nations at his bar as a

EASTER JOT. 297

shepherd gathers his flocks. And shall he remain in
the grave like one of his own creatures ? Other
miracle-workers, doing their work in the name of
another, might sleep on in the dust of death ; but
Jesus, who wrought miracles in his own name, and
had miracles wrought in his name by others, must
vindicate his claim to be Lord of life. No sign of
mortality or weakness must abide with him. He
must carry the burdens of humanity, but he must
also triumph over, purify, and immortalize them. He
must end his earthly pilgrimage as he began it.
Angels sung and new stars glittered at his birth ;
wind and sea obeyed him, wine and bread sprang
into being at his word, disease blushed into health
before him, and death trembled at his approach ; the
sun vailed himself, and the holy of holies z/«vailed it-
self, and the saints that slept in their graves arose,
when he gave up the ghost.

O how fittingly, how grandly, was such a life
crowned by the miracle of Easter! Without that
the King had received every honor but his crown ;
without that the last link in his divine genealogy had
been lacking ; without that the last verse had been
wanting to the epic of his life, the last stanza to the
triumphant lyric of the Church.

O, if Jesus had continued in the grave, your faith
and our preaching had been vain ! that grave would
have cast the cold shadow of doubt back on all his
glorious life ! But as it is, the miracle of Easter makes
Christ's tomb to flame with light and to illuminate
all that went before. It was the consistent end of
his earthly life.

The joy of Easter, again, is a joy of death. Herein

298 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

is a paradox. How can there be a joy of death ?
and how can the resurrection be that joy ? We
answer, first of all, the cross saves us. It tells of
vicarious dying. But if Jesus did not rise, if there
was no glorious Easter after the mournful Good Fri-
day, then Jesus died for himself alone. It is the mir-
acle of the resurrection that lifts the cross above a
common instrument of suffering, and converts it into
an altar on which is expiated the world's guilt. The
sepulcher illuminates the cross, and through the sep-
ulcher a fitting sacrifice ascends to the most holy
place to present its wounds on our behalf. But the
resurrection is also the joy of death in a more gen-
eral sense. It is the joy of death in the case of all
the good. If Jesus' resurrection is the proof and
pledge of ours ; if because he rose we shall rise and
follow him into the glorious state of holy immortals,
then death becomes a blessing and a charm It is
the gate to the Celestial City. Its workmanship is
heavy ; its bronze bars and panels are dark ; it has
no windows through which we may see the glories
beyond ; its opening may be a painful process, send-
ing the jar of its hoarse creak through all the dis-
solving members ; but shall all this hinder our en-
trance to our Father's mansion ? It will only enhance
the sweetness of the prospect when once it is opened
and our delighted spirits have entered.

What is wanted is a distinct faith in Christ's resur-
rection. Such a faith Paul had — he had seen his
risen Lord ; he had been in the third heaven ; he said
he had a desire to depart ; he declared to be ab-
sent from the body was to be present with the Lord ;
he said death belonged to the Christian. When we

EASTER JOY. 299

remember that Paul, in the life of danger which he
led, lived, as it were, right at the door of death, and
knew so well what lay on the other side, the wonder
is how he could content himself to remain in the body.
And, indeed, he was only content to remain as a duty.
He desired to go. That is, as far as he dared he
courted death, and waited for it as a great gain. To
him it was no more than to " be unclothed that he
might be clothed upon."

This is the view taken of death by those who have
most thoroughly imbibed the Christian idea of its
meaning. It is transformed into a glorious person-
age, radiant and friendly, ready, with smiling face
and open arms, to hand believers into the waiting
chariot.

With such views as these death would lose all its
terror ; the day of death would be waited for as our
own particular Easter. Why not ? If to die is to
be glorified ; if it be to see Jesus, to leave pain, to
end doubt, to be quit of sin and of temptation ; if it
is to be crowned forever, why not go to death as to
our highest joy ? Why not covet it, and as we do the
work of life be cheered by its light, and wait with
pleasure till it come ? This was the feeling of Charles
Wesley when he wrote that strange but beautiful
hymn beginning, " Ah, lovely appearance of death."
This hymn has been severely criticised, and the last
editors of our Hymn Book have very unwisely omit-
ted it. Only suppose the writer, or any Christian, to
be thoroughly penetrated with the thought of the
glory to which only death can introduce him, and
death at once assumes a friendly face, and grows even
more beautiful as it is more looked at.

300 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

But hear a verse or two of Wesley's hymn :

" Ah, lovely appearance of death !

What sight upon earth is so fair ?
Not all the gay pageants that breathe

Can with a dead body compare.
With solemn delight I survey

The corpse, when the spirit is fled,
In love with the beautiful clay,

And longing to lie in its stead.

" How blest is our brother, bereft
Of all that could burden his mind !

How easy the soul that has left
This wearisome body behind !

Of evil incapable, thou,
m Whose relics with envy I see,

No longer in misery now,
No longer a sinner like me."

If one should see vividly the glory to which death
alone can introduce him, surely the instrument would
catch some of the glory and beauty.

The joy of Easter, then — the joy of Christ's rising —
is the joy of his victory, the joy of a sublime and
heroic consistency, the joy of death itself.

But, brethren, has the joy passed away with the
first Easter? By no means. It did not all belong
to the few who saw Jesus after his resurrection. The
victory is permanent ; the consistency between his
sublime life and his resurrection is as glorious now
as when it was first said, " He is not here ; he is risen."
The glorifying of death in the very dominion of the
grave is as real now to Christian faith as it was at
first to the eyes of Mary Magdalen or to the hands
of Thomas.

As the resurrection of the Master gave new mean-

EASTER JOY. 301

ing and power to the words of Christ for those who
had heard them from his own mouth, so now it pours
brightness on the Old Testament which Christ
quoted, on the Gospels which he uttered, and on the
epistles of those who had seen the Lord, and who
show in every word that they are writing under the
inspiration of the vision and certainty of the great fact.
Yes, brethren, the joy of Easter, the power of the
resurrection, pervades the testimony of the sacred
books. No one can read the New Testament with-
out seeing both that the disciples were as certain of
the resurrection of our Lord as of their existence,
and that they were perfectly conversant with the
facts to which they testify.

The joy of Easter to-day, as at the first, gives us
humanity glorified above weakness ; a human prince
over the Church — not at Rome, but at Jerusalem ; not
at the earthly, but at the heavenly Jerusalem ; not a
Pope, but a God — robed in the body that slept in the
tomb of the Arimathean Joseph. This hour the joy
of Easter shines in every Christian grave-yard, in
every Christian sick-room, and gilds all Christendom
with the light and hope of a distinct personal im-
mortality.

All hail, imperishable joy of Easter! thy morn is
the brightest of the year. Thy first dawning ushered
in a new age. Then began the Sun of Righteousness,
coming up with healing in his wings, traveling in
the greatness of his strength, to draw the attention
and homage of the world to his majesty. All hail,
thrice hail, joy of Easter ! with thy glory is glorified
the cross, and every word and holy deed of Scripture.

The souls of God's people realize thee in a spiritual

302 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

sense. The risen Lord is risen within them, and they
with him are risen to newness of life. The outer
Easter is the figure of the inner ; the glory of the
risen Lord strikes inward, and the soul on its Easter-
wings mounts up to worship the ascended Lord.

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 303

XIII.

NOT WORKS, BUT MERCY, THE GROUND OF
SALVATION.

Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according
to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and re-
newing of the Holy Ghost ; which he shed on us abundantly, through
Jesus Christ our Saviour. — Titus iii, 5, 6.

FROM this epistle it would appear that Titus, the
person to whom it was addressed, had been left
in the island of Crete, to control the Churches which
had there been established. The epistle consists
mainly of directions as to how the affairs of these
Churches shall be managed. First, Church officers
shall be appointed, who shall be men of wisdom and of
goodness, able to stop the mouths of the disputatious
Jewish converts. Next Titus is directed how to deal
with different classes of private Christians, with the
aged and young of both sexes, with the slaves, and
with the public authorities, to whom Christians are
to be obedient in every thing good. And, finally,
rules are given for the treatment of the people of the
world generally, those, namely, who are not Chris-
tians : " Speak evil of no man ; be no brawlers," no
noisy, insolent braggarts ; but be gentle, showing all
meekness unto all men. To this most proper behavior
the brethren are to be exhorted and urged by remind-
ing them, not flatteringly, that naturally they are not
better than their heathen neighbors ; that, like these

304 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

heathen neighbors, they were formerly "foolish, disobe-
dient, lustful, malicious, hateful, and hating one an-
other." And if it is now different with them, it is
nothing for them to boast of; the change in them is
not by works of righteousness which they have done,
but by God's own mere mercy, through Jesus Christ
our Saviour ; or, as the text expresses it, not by works
of righteousness which we have done, but according
to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regenera-
tion, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost.

The thought of the apostle evidently is the humil-
iating one that we are saved, not by good works, but
by mercy ; that is, he states the doctrine of the ground
of our salvation negatively and positively. Let us try
and get fully into the meaning of these two thoughts.

First, then, salvation is not by good works — " not
by works of righteousness which we have done."

Our first remark on this negative proposition is,
that the Scriptures every-where repudiate the idea of
salvation by human merit, whether of character or
of works.

One of the most striking proofs of this assertion
is to be found in the institution of sacrifice, as we see
it in the Old Testament. This institution does not
begin with Moses, but must be traced back to our
first parents, immediately after the fall. Abel brought
an offering of the firstlings of his flock, thus confess-
ing his sin and helplessness, and Noah offered a
sacrifice upon coming out of the ark; and all the
way from that infant period down to the times of
Christ, sacrifices did not cease to be offered. With
his sacrifice all others ceased, for his was the mean-
ing and fulfillment of all others.

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 305

Now, what was the meaning of these animal sacri-
fices ? Was it not a divinely commanded confession
that the offerer, in his own person, was guilty and
helpless? that he could not save himself from guilt
and condemnation by his own exertions ? And did
he not place the life of the animal in the stead of his
own forfeited life ? He was not saved by the offer-
ing as an act of his own, but was exempted from
death by substitution. Another life is put in place
of his. True, these animal sacrifices were only types
of the great sacrifice.

• Now, this view will become still more striking when
we remember that the saints of the olden time are
never said to have been justified by their own righte-
ousness. The most eminent of them, Job, Abra-
ham, David, Daniel, were all required to present
their sacrifices. These sacrifices might be hypocrit-
ically employed, and thus become an abomination to
the Lord; but they were none the less essential to
the sincere and true-hearted. By the law of Moses
the pardon depended, not on the general good life,
but on the sacrifice.

The voice of the New Testament is to the same
effect. Paul, besides going back to the Old Testa-
ment, explaining it, and showing that salvation was
by grace, through faith, and not by works, even at the
first after the fall — besides declaring that Abraham
was justified, not by works, but by faith, as men are
now — goes on to show clearly, and in many places
with great fullness, the impossibility of being saved
by good works. " By grace are ye saved, through
faith ; and that not of yourselves : it is the gift of God.
Not of works, lest any man should boast." Indeed,

20

306 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINQ.

in innumerable ways and cases the apostle shows
that all men as sinners are under condemnation, and
can be delivered only by an act of divine mercy.
Our own works he rejects, and contemptuously calls
" our own righteousness," and finds comfort only in
the righteousness of faith in Christ.

The only apparent exception to this view in the
New Testament is to be found in the Epistle of
James, where he is showing the vanity of a faith
which brings forth no good fruit. " Show me," says
he, " thy faith without thy works, and I will show
thee my faith by my works. Thou believest that
there is one God ; thou doest well : the devils also be-
lieve, and tremble. But wilt thou know, O vain man,
that faith without works is dead ? Was not Abra-
ham our father justified by works, when he offered
Isaac his son upon the altar ?" And still further in
the same strain. The difficulty here is that justifi-
cation is used in a different sense from that in which
Paul uses it. By justification Paul means pardon of
sin ; by the same word James means a proof of the
genuineness and sincerity of profession, that is, a jus-
tification of his faith. Hence he says : " Seest thou
not how Abraham's faith wrought with his works, and
by works was faith made perfect ? " That is, Abra-
ham's faith was proven before the world to be a true
faith by his works ; it was plainly no pretense. His
faith justified his soul, but his works justified, that is,
vindicated, his faith.

For example, if a man professed to be a true patriot,
and yet should be found in a rebellion fighting against
his country, we should remind him that love in word
must be backed by love in deed, otherwise we should

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 307

more than suspect its genuineness. But no one
would understand us by such a rebuke to assert that
love has its root in the acts instead of the heart. It
is the heart that feels love, that enjoys love ; but the
actions must prove it to other people. So with faith.
It roots itself in the heart, but proves itself in action.
By faith, a deed of the heart, we are justified before
God without the deeds of the law; but before men
we can only be justified by works. We are justified
by faith, but our faith is authenticated by works, and
thus, as St. James teaches, our works co-operate with
•our faith, and prove that we have really been justified.
That we are not justified by works is as clearly the
teaching of reason as of the Bible. Let us see if this
is not so.

And, first, does there not seem to be a wonderful
disproportion between the very best possible life on
earth of a mere man and life eternal? Is it possible
in the eye of reason that any man, however spotless,
however heroic in virtue and sacrifice, could in less
than a hundred years earn, as a matter of justice, the
infinite and eternal bliss of heaven ? Why, how much
can a man do in his little life ? How many good
deeds ? Why, they could be counted on the fingers !
All we could say, at the furthest, is that he shall have
as many good things done to him — he should be re-
paid, he should get back what he has laid out. And
how much of heaven would that be ? WThy, to think
of buying heaven with the best possible human life
is as if a little child should gather up his broken toys
and pieces of china and glass, and offer it as the
price of farms or splendid palaces.

So far is it from beins; true that sinful men are saved

308 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

by good works, that even holy beings who have never
fallen. are not saved by good works. The love and
goodness of God created them perfectly holy. In
that state they are already saved, and their good
works are the constant evidence, not the cause, of
their salvation. We cannot conceive that there is
such merit in the life of an angel that he could earn
heaven by an earthly life of threescore years and
ten.

But if works could save us, let us try and imagine
how it might be done. It must be effected in one of
three ways, if at all. Either our whole life, inward-
and outward, must be pure, or else we must be ac-
cepted because our good deeds outweigh our bad ones ;
or, finally, because there is merit in our good works,
be they fewer or more than our bad ones, to atone
for the bad. Let us examine these several propo-
sitions.

First, then, is any one saved on the ground of ab-
solute purity, inward and outward ? on the ground
that all his acts, visible and invisible, proceed from
motives perfectly pure and good, and from a nature
without a spot of defilement from which his actions
could possibly take a taint ?

If this is the case with any one he is like the un-
fallen angels ; he does not need to be saved ; he is
saved already. But where is the soul, except the Son
of Mary, upon whom no stain of inward impurity has
ever come ? What says the conscience of each in
the Divine presence ? What says the memory ? Ah,
what sad and bitter images of the past come up !
and what a painful consciousness of the present !

Or where even is the person who has kept the

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 309

outer life right, and never committed actual sin ? Let
such a one dare to come forth and set up his claim.
Perhaps there is no man in the world bold enough to
venture. The very stones would cry out, the heavens
would blush for him, and the fiends of perdition would
grow impatient of their prey. Nay, brethren, the
very saints may be challenged in the words of Christ :
" Let him that is without sin cast the first stone."
Good works, in this sense, are impossible. A Uni-
tarian, or even a Pharisee, would not claim salvation
on this ground.

Our second supposition of salvation by works was,
that our good and evil might be weighed against each
other in the last day, and that if the good outweighed
the bad we might be saved.

But where do we get this ? Is it thus the law of
nature deals with men ? Does it say, This man
played the glutton and drunkard only three days out
of every seven, therefore he shall escape the penalty ?
Does it say of a certain farmer, He plowed and
sowed and spread his fertilizers and harrowed in due
season ; he only neglected to put and keep up his
fences ; therefore, as most of his work was done
right, it shall all be right at harvest ?

Does the law of the land say, This man only com-
mitted murder two or three times during his life ; he
shall, therefore, not suffer ; he refrained from killing
more frequently than he killed ? The bank clerk
only robbed the bank vault once ; if that be weighed
against years of honesty it must go in his favor ?

Alas ! alas ! my brethren, the law knows no% such
balance-striking— neither the human nor the divine
law, neither the law of nature nor of revelation. Its

3 1 0 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

language is, " Thou art weighed in the balance ;" not
thy good against thy evil, but thy whole self against
the weight of infinite justice, truth, and holiness ; and
the wages of sin, any sin, however small, is death.
Nature strikes no balance, nor human law, nay, nor
divine.

But the third view which may be taken of good
works as a ground of salvation is that, although our
nature is sinful, and we have also sinned in act, and
although there is no balancing of sin against right-
eousness and deciding by their respective quantities,
yet there may be a merit in our good actions to atone
for the bad, and thus leave it fitting that we should
be saved. But this can only be upon the supposition
that our good actions, all of them, are not already due
to the law, and that we can do more in a given time
than duty. If Ihey are due, and we take them away
from one part of life to supply the defects of another,
we only take the stones from one part of the fence to
build another part ; we do not put a piece of new
cloth into an old garment, and thus make the rent
worse, but we cut a piece out of the back to patch a
great hole in front. We act like a dishonest clerk,
who, to pay back stolen funds, steals more bags, or
like the silly fellow who lengthened his blanket at
the bottom with a piece cut off from the top.

People who take this view are unconscious that
while they affect to despise all superstition, especially
Romanism, they are practicing upon the Romish doc-
trine of supererogation. They are fancying that they
can, at a given time, do more than their duty, and
so have something to put back to a part of their lives
which fell below duty.

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 3 I r

Thus it is that nuns and monks, by the austerities
of the cell, by fasting, self-flagellations, sleeping on
the ground, watching, etc., expect to wipe out the
sins of their youth. Thus it was that the cruel, blood-
thirsty, avaricious, ambitious, lustful old barons and
princes of the Middle Ages thought to atone for their
lives of brutal violence by giving away on their death-
beds large sums of money to found or support monas-
teries or to build churches. Thus was Luther em-
ployed at Rome in climbing Pilate's staircase when
the inner voice first spoke and said, " The just shall
live by faith ; " thus Wesley was employed when the
Moravians came, and thus you are employed when
you fancy that your steady, uniform life in middle or
old age, when your fiery passions have cooled down,
can obliterate the sins of the past. We read in En-
glish literature of a certain nobleman imbruing his
hands in the gore of an innocent guest, and asking,
"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
clean from my hand ? " and replying to his own ques-
tion, " No ! this my hand will rather the multitudi-
nous seas incarnardine, making the green one red."
So may it be with us. We do but walk in our sleep,
but in our vain dream we fancy that our spotted hands
are clean — that we have purified them in waters of
our own mixing — and think not of the Fountain in the
house of David that alone can wash them white.

But, finally, on this point, suppose we have not re-
sorted to these subterfuges, but fully believe and admit
that salvation is not possible by works ; still with
how many does a feeling yet linger, a hope, that we
are not bad enough to be condemned to eternal
death ! But remember, the condemned, man never

312 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

agrees to his own sentence. Even when the judge
has pronounced his doom he still hopes to escape ;
and he may, for human tribunals are sometimes in
error in. judgment, or weak in execution. But the
word of the Eternal who shall reverse ?

If, then, good works are not the ground of human
salvation, what is ? The answer is here, in the text :
" According to his mercy he saved us." God hath
concluded all under sin, and there is nothing left for
any one but mercy. This was the plea of an apostle,
who tells us that he too " obtained mercy." This
was the plea of the publican : " God be merciful to
me a sinner ! " Look at the poor debtor in the par-
able ; he has not a cent, and yet he owes ten thousand
talents, a sum so great that his life is not worth a
hundredth part of the interest. Mercy alone can
meet his case. His is every sinner's case.

But how does this mercy come ? in a way to con-
tradict or ignore justice or law ? By no means.
There is, after all, great truth at the bottom of this
error of the merit of good works. Men feel, in rea-
son, that those who have forfeited life and salvation
must recover it, if at all, justly. The law must be
upheld. And, although man cannot be saved except
on the ground of mercy, yet he must not be saved
at the expense of justice ; to lift man up must over-
turn eternal order.

Just here, then, we meet, in the text, with the foun-
dation of justice on which this mercy rests : "Accord-
ing to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of
regeneration, and the renewing of the Holy Ghost ;
which he shed on us abundantly, through Jesus
Christ our Saviour." Yes, here it is again, the ever-

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 3 13

reiterated doctrine of salvation by the atonement, the
process of which is the washing of regeneration and
the renewing of the Holy Ghost. The demands of
justice are met by the great sacrifice of Calvary, and
the demands of purity by the Holy Ghost, the sanc-
tifying Spirit making us into new creatures.

Now what have we taught in the lesson of the
hour ? We have shown that the Old Testament
repudiates the possibility of salvation by human
merit ; the law saves none, but condemns all. This
was seen in the institution of sacrifice, and by the
fact that the virtues of the greatest saints are never
pleaded as meritorious. We have seen that the New
Testament teaches the same truth still more plainly,
and that human reason falls in with the verdict
of Scripture. We have seen that men cannot be
saved on the ground of their own perfect holiness,
nor by weighing their good against their evil deeds,
nor by making their virtues atone for their sins.
Finally, we have seen that the only ground of salva-
tion is mercy — mercy, however mysteriously made
consistent with strictest law through the sacrifice of
Christ. Only about the cross do mercy and truth
meet together, and righteousness and peace kiss
each other.

Allow a few reflections in conclusion. And, first,
if salvation is from a merit outside of us, even from
the cross of Christ, then even the best and the no-
blest have nothing to brag of. What good there is
in them is from the cross, and even that has suffered
in transplanting, and is so imperfect as to constitute
no ground of justification. This is the confession of
the best in all ages, and especially when they have

3 1 4 THE NEW LIFE DA WMNG.

come to give their dying testimony. On Thursday I
visited a sister in Christ, a member of this Church, who
is dying. Her triumph in death is complete. A few-
days ago she was visited by a friend, who said to her,
" No matter whether you say any thing in your last
sickness or not, your past life is enough." She was
wounded — for her Lord, not for herself; the tears
came to her eyes, and she said, " O, don't speak in that
way of my poor life ! my sole dependence is that of a
poor sinner, on the atonement of Jesus." Thus is it
ever with the redeemed on earth, and so it will con-
tinue through eternity, in heaven. Before the throne
they do not celebrate their own goodness, but their
song is, " Glory to Him who hath redeemed us, and
washed us from our sins in his own blood." In heaven,
as on earth, the saved have nothing which they have
not received.

Again, if salvation is not of works, but of mercy,
through Jesus Christ our Lord, the most extreme
cases are not without hope. Suppose you are one
of the very worst class of sinners, there is still no
cause to despair. It is not a question of the amount
of sin to be pardoned. Where sin abounded, grace
hath much more abounded ; where sin reigned, grace
hath reigned on a higher throne. Jesus was the
friend of publicans and sinners ; he pardoned Mary
Magdalen ; he took Zaccheus, the publican, into fel-
lowship, and wound up life by forgiving the dying
thief. Outwardly we shall find none of these classes
in my congregation. We are all respectable. But
judged by the heart, by the secret experiences, by
vile passions and equally vile deeds known only to
ourselves, we may be fitting companions for the worst.

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 315

To such — who feel that they add hypocritical conceal-
ment to the meanest vices and sins ; who carry high
heads before men and black hearts before God ;
whose hearts, under an orderly exterior, are wrestling
with the memory of the basest wrongs and the foul-
est corruptions — to such even, thank heaven ! there
is hope. We save not ourselves ; Jesus saves. He
saves from all sin, all kinds of sin, and all amounts
of sin. He will deliver thee from the grinding
mountain of thy guilt as easily as he saves an
infant.

Still further, if our own merit cannot save us, there
is even hope for an aged person worn out in the
service of sin. Your life is a bleak desert, with no
oasis in it, except far back yonder in your infancy ;
all the way between that green and flowery spot and
your stiff old age your retrospect beholds only bar-
renness and blackness. You cannot bear to look
back. There is nothing to commend you to God.
Nay, the dread picture smites you in the face, and
blinds you with scalding tears or bewilders you with
dismay. This comes of retrospect. But if you look
forward you see a cold blank or an eternity of woe,
according to your faith. In such a case, what a boon
is it to be told, that salvation is possible; that it is
obtainable for the simple, naked asking ; that a poor,
worn-out thing, exhausted, used up in the service of
the world and in the mistaken service of self, may
be saved too, and, with the young or with the strong,
who have borne the heat and burden of the day of
life, may be washed and placed in the bosom of God !
It is even so. It is not of works, not at all of works.
What is wanting is one touch, by faith, of the cross,

3 1 6 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINO.

whether it be by the rosy fingers of youth, or by the
shriveled and palsied hand of age.

Once more, in this vein. If salvation is not by
works, but by mercy, then we need not wait. I once
sat by the bedside of a sweet young man, wasting
rapidly away with consumption. He seemed to be
penitent, but his position was a fearful one. On
the edge of the fresh and waiting grave, alarmed at
the future, who could tell whether his sorrow for sin
were real, or only alarm in view of its consequences ?
My position was more than delicate ; it was painful.
Should I preach salvation to him as a present bless-
ing ? I reasoned, Salvation is not of works, but by
faith, and if so, it is now. I ventured. I said, " Be-
lieve on the Lord Jesus, believe now." I shall not
soon forget the look of that wan, eager face as he
said, " O, not now ! " My heart burned, but did not
falter. I said, " Yes, now ; it is not faith in yourself,
but in Christ who has wrought out salvation for every
soul of man ; yes, believe on him now ; " and he did
believe, and rejoiced to his dying hour.

Thank heaven, my dying people ! salvation does
not require waiting — no, not a moment. You need
not wait another day. Nay, you need not leave this
house unsaved. We boldly assert that you may be
saved this moment, while we are seeking to pour
upon you the water of life. Yes, now wash and be
clean ; now, as you sit here thrust your hand deep
into the treasury of redeeming wealth and draw forth
riches. It is yours for the taking, and now.

In view of this doctrine of salvation solely by grace,
there is no sense in standing off and saying, " I am
as good as my neighbors." Such a word is irrelevant,

MERCY THE GROUND OF SALVATION. 3 17

entirely so. It is not a question of any human good-
ness, either your own or your neighbor's. If you had
all his goodness, with that of John, Peter, Paul, and
Luther, added to your own, it were like paying a debt
with the bills of a broken bank. Here only one sig-
nature passes, that of Jesus, written in his own blood.
Burn your old broken bank notes ; throw into the
sea the books in which you have registered your good
works as debts of Jehovah ; take the beggars' crumbs
from under the table, and Christ shall become to you
enduring treasure. Stop your grumbling and petty
reasonings about your nothings, and humbly choose
the good part which shall never be taken away from
you.

Finally, what you want is not outer reformation,
but the life of Christ. Some of you have been mov-
ing in grooves like a railway car, others like a door
on its hinges. What you need is nothing external,
nothing merely of morals, or honesty, or decency — a
Pharisee may have all these, and yet be far enough
from the kingdom ; you want something deeper, that
carries these with it. Your first need is to be jostled
out of your ruts, to be knocked off your old rusty
hinges, and fairly to meet the question : " How shall
a man be just with his God ? " Before that question
profoundly asked pressed into your breast like a
probe, you will confess :

" Faded my virtuous show, —

My form without the power ;
The sin-convincing Spirit blew,

And blasted every flower."

The vail of your heart will be rent, you will see your
leprous face in the heavenly mirror, and, half dead

3 1 8 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

with shame, will hasten to hide in the cleft of the
Rock. 0, my friend, what a hiding will that be ! Is
your heart running thither now? Does it find rest
in Christ now ? O, heart of man, lift up thyself and
answer, Yes !

And now, Christian brethren, one word to you :
though we know that we are created anew in Christ
Jesus especially unto good works, though we get a
new nature for a new life, yet Christ's cross con-
tinues the radiant powerful center of that life.

We cannot do without good works, because the
want of them would prove that we had not Christ,
and because we must have them to honor Christ.
Still, in the end, we shall feel like the good man who
on his death-bed said, " My last act of faith I wish to
be to take the blood of Jesus, as the High Priest did
when he entered behind the vail : and when I have
passed the vail I would appear with it before the
throne."

" He sank beneath his heavy woes

To raise me to a crown ;
There's ne'er a gift his hand bestows

But cost his heart a groan."

SALVATION BY WORKS. 319

XIV.

SALVATION BY WORKS

We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works ;
which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them. —
Eph. ii, 10.

IN a previous discourse we attempted to show that
salvation was not to be obtained by our good
works. We showed that the Scriptures, both of the
Old and New Testament, repudiated the merit of
human works, and threw us upon the mercy of God for
deliverance. We further proved- that what was thus
clearly scriptural was equally reasonable ; that were
there, indeed, a perfect human nature and a perfect
life, even this could not in a few short years do good
works enough to earn the eternal bliss of heaven.
We further showed, however, that there never had been
such a perfect human life, except in the instance of our
Lord Jesus Christ. We still further sought .to make
it appear that, from the analogies of nature and provi-
dence, we could not expect that the Judge in the last
day would weigh and balance our good and bad acts
against each other, and save those whose good works
outweighed the bad. And, finally, we hope we made
it clear that there is no merit in our good works to
atone for our bad ones. The result of the whole
argument was, as the apostle had said, that we are

3 20 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

saved, " not by works of righteousness which we have
done, but according to his mercy, through Jesus Christ
our Saviour." The publican's plea of mercy was all that
was left. The prodigal's plea was all that remained :
" I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and
am no more worthy to be called thy son : make me
as one of thy hired servants."

But this, my brethren, was only one side of the
Gospel. It was a view of our relations to God as
lost, undone, helpless sinners, saved, pardoned, re-
newed by his mercy. The apostle had no intention
ot making light of good works. He did not intend to
sever religion from morality, or to give the shadow of
an excuse for pretending that there could be a true
religious life without virtue, without good works. He
teaches, on the contrary, that although good works
cannot produce salvation, yet salvation must produce
good works — that a saved man is only such so far as
he does good works. Without them, with whatever
fair words, he is only sounding brass and a tinkling
cymbal. If good works are not needful to save us,
they are needful to prove our salvation, and as fruits
of it.

It is quite remarkable that the apostle has asso-
ciated the necessity of good works closely with the
passage on which the discourse just referred to was
founded. Immediately after declaring that we are
not saved by works of righteousness, but by mercy,
he says, " They that have believed in God must be
careful to maintain good works." And the text of
to-day is preceded by a strikingly parallel passage
to that text. " By grace are ye saved through faith,
and that not of yourselves : it is the gift of God : not

SAL VA TIOJST BY WORKS. 3 2 I

of works, lest any man should boast." Then comes
in the text : " For we are his workmanship, created
in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath
before ordained that we should walk in them." That
is, we are not saved by good works, but we are saved
unto good works ; good works cannot put us right, but
they necessarily follow when we are right ; they are
the natural fruit and the ordained sphere of the new
creature in Christ Jesus.

By our being " his workmanship, created in Christ
Jesus," the same is meant as when the same writer
says, " If any man be in Christ he is a new creat-
ure ; old things are passed away ; behold all things
are become new." The meaning is the same as
when it is said in the same epistle, " That ye put off
concerning the former conversation the old man,
which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts ; and
be renewed in the spirit of your mind ; and that ye
put on the new man, which after God is created in
righteousness and true holiness." The idea is, that
spiritual regeneration is a new creation — God out of
bad materials producing that which is good, and the
new creation proving its character by its fruits. If
there are no good works, there has been no new
creation.

The aim of this discourse is to show the vitality of
the relation of good works to the Christian life.

Our first remark is, that it is now clear that, when
the apostle denies that we are saved by good works,
'he does not mean the slightest possible disrespect
for works that are truly good. So far is he from it
that he teaches us here that good works are the pre-
ordained state for which we are created anew. " Cre-

21

322 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

ated in Christ Jesus unto good works," we are born
again, we put on the new man. We are made new
creatures for the sole object of doing good works.

Good works, in the true sense of the word, consti-
tute the right use, the legitimate and divinely ordained
sphere, of every intelligent and moral being — that for
which he was created and re-created. And we might
as well affirm that it is matter of indifference to the
Creator whether a fig-tree bring forth figs or thistle-
burs, whether the sun and planets keep or wildly
desert their courses, as to say that the Lord of all is
indifferent to good works in man. He made sun and
stars precisely for the performance of their respective
offices. He made the fig-tree exactly for figs, and
he created at first, and then recreated, man in Christ
Jesus unto good works.

So far from good works being depreciated in the
Scriptures, so far from their being unnecessary for
man, they are all that constitute the excellency and
glory of beings of a still higher order. What is our
idea of the character, life, and blessedness of the holy
angels ? Does it not consist in this, that the angels,
out of a perfectly holy nature, are doing only good
works — works of purity, of benevolence, of piety —
good works toward God, toward each other, toward
man ? And what is our idea of the fallen angels ?
Is it not that by ceasing to do such works they be-
came what they are — devils ? Nay, my brethren, to
go higher than the angels— what is it that constituted
the claim of Jesus upon us ? Is it not that in these
good works he excelled all new creatures ? He went
about doing good ; he was perfectly obedient ; he kept
the whole law ; he did no sin, and fulfilled all right-

SAL VA TLON B T WORKS. 323

eousness. It was his meat and drink to do the will
of his Father. Without this perfect obedience he
could neither be our Saviour nor our chief exemplar.
Suppose him to have ceased to do good works, and
he is at once degraded. And is he the author of a
religion that is indifferent to good works ? God
forbid !

Nay, brethren beloved, we may even go one step
further with these illustrations : the eternal Father
himself, what is he but a being whose nature it is to
do good works ? We call him God, that is, good, the
Good Being, good with infinite emphasis, all whose
doing, whose never-ceasing activity, is according to
his nature of infinite goodness.

The aim of the new creation of man in Christ Je-
sus, then, is to bring him into harmony with the holy
angels, with Jesus, and with the eternal Father. This
is the meaning of his change. It is a transformation
which is not intended to free him from responsibility
for good works, but to fit him for their performance.
It is to give him strength to lift and bear his bur-
dens, and to convert them into treasures, if not wings.
His good works are so far from saving him that they
are only possible after mercy has saved him ; but then
the salvation, the new birth, has these good works
for its object just as much as plowing, sowing, and
fencing have fruitfulness for an object.

Our second general remark is, So far are good
works from being indifferent to the Christian life, they
are already virtually implied in the new creation
spoken of in the text. Created in Christ yesus unto
good works, not only means that good works are the
object of such a creation ; it means also that good

324 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINO.

works are already potentially included in the creation ;
that this new " creation in Christ Jesus " involves the
power and disposition to do right, contains the very
elements, the very seeds, of good works, out of which
such works naturally grow.

Let us illustrate our meaning by inquiring what
are the principles which are implanted in the soul in
the new creation ? We answer, They are the same
which are called the fruits of the Spirit, and the op-
posite of those which are called the works of the
flesh. " Now the works of the flesh are manifest,
which are these : Adultery, fornication, uncleanness,
lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance,
emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings,
murders, drunkenness, revelings, and such like." A
frightful list ! " But the fruit of the Spirit is love,
joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
meekness, temperance, [or chastity ;] against such
there is no law." The new creation is the fruit, the
work, of the Spirit, destroying the old fleshly life, and
bringing in a new and holy life. To take an exam-
ple or two : one of the results of the new creation
here called a fruit of the Spirit is, as we have seen,
faith. What is this but a hearty trust in Christ and
in his word, which word requires good works ? In
that faith good works are already included.

" Without faith it is impossible to please God ;" but
with true faith, even as a grain of mustard-seed, we
may remove mountains. " This is the victory that
overcometh the world, even our faith." " The just
shall live by faith." Moses, by faith, endured as
seeing Him who is invisible ; by faith triumphed
over all the attractions of Pharaoh's court, despised

SAL VA TION BY WORKS. 3 2 5

Pharaoh's power, and esteemed the reproach of
Christ above all the treasures of Egypt. Indeed,
faith is the very nerve and energy of persistence in
good works. It grasps at once both promise and
commandment, both privilege and duty. It lives by
every word proceeding out of the mouth of God,
whether that word be a call to enjoy, to suffer, or to
do. To be a new creature is to be an earnest be-
liever, to have genuine faith ; and to have such faith
is to possess the very kernel of obedience.

Another fruit of the Spirit and prime element of the
new life is leve. If faith contains good works, love
is their very essence. " He that loveth is born of
God." " Love is the fulfilling of the law." " All the
law is fulfilled in one word : Thou shalt love thy neigh-
bor as thyself." Again, " Love worketh no ill to his
neighbor." Still again, " Charity, or love, is the bond
of perfectness." It runs like a thread of music
through the whole of the renewed life, stringing its
otherwise broken and scattered parts into the unity
of one kindly intent.

The other fruits of the Spirit mentioned in our
quotation are joy, peace, long-suffering, meekness,
gentleness, goodness, temperance — all of which have
respect to the manner and spirit in which duty is
performed.

These, then, are the elements of the new creation :
faith, love, goodness, meekness, gentleness, etc.
These are what the Holy Ghost works in the heart
when we are born again ; so that the inner Christian
life, so far from being indifferent to morality, to in-
dustrious goodness, contains it — just as the newly-
sown wheat-field contains the harvest ; just as the

326 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

structure of the bird contains the song, even before it
has been uttered ; just as sculpture and architecture
and poetry were in Michael Angelo before he had
lifted a chisel, or handled a plummet, or written a line.
That is the meaning of being converted, of being re-
newed. It is having the leaven of the new and true
life put into the dead and motionless meal ; it is
planting in the soul the powers which are ready to
bloom out in good works.

Our third general remark is that, such being the
case, so essential to salvation do good works become,
that the new creation can only be known by its pro-
ducing good works. I know that, in strictness, faith
is the only condition of salvation, so that whatever a
man may have, if he lack faith he is not saved, and
whatever he may be supposed to lack, if he have faith
he is saved. And yet the test of Christ, and hence
the true one, is, " By their fruits ye shall know them."
And St. John says, " Be not deceived ; he that doeth
righteousness is righteous, and he that committeth
sin is of the devil." It is still true, however, that
faith is the sole condition of salvation ; but then all
professions of faith are vain, are mere empty mock-
ery, where good works are not. That is, as St. James
has it, faith without works is dead, being alone. The
faith is faith only as a dead body is a man. The
faith is faith only as tares are wheat.

But, to be more specific, what is meant here by
good works ? If the Pharisee of our Saviour's time
were here he would reply, " Good works are the
tithing mint, anise and cummin, diligently attending
the temple service with phylacteried arms and front-
leted eyes, making long prayers, enduring long fasts

SAL VA TION B Y WORKS. 32;

— in short, doing punctiliously all religious duties;"
and in the same spirit a modern professor of religion
will tell you that good works are the services of the
Church : enjoying the deliciousness of communion
with the people of God, reading the Bible and other
pious books, singing lively hymns, and hearing pa-
thetic sermons and exhortations. Indeed, it is to be
feared that many professors of religion put the whole
of good works just here, and never dream that the
apostle is referring mainly to the homely duties of
life, to the common points of morality ; and yet this
is precisely the case. In the fourth chapter of this
epistle, describing the new inner creation, he says :
" The new man is created after God in righteousness
and true holiness," and proceeds to explain what he
means by righteousness and true holiness thus :
" Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man
truth with his neighbor. Be ye angry, and sin not :
let not the sun go down upon your wrath : neither
give place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal no
more. Let no corrupt communication proceed out
of your mouth. Let all bitterness, and wrath, and
anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from
you, with all malice." This is the apostle's idea of
holiness and righteousness as developed in the outer
life. They are not wholly made up of Church duties.
Our Saviour means to apply the same test and to
make the same distinction when he charges the
Pharisees with punctiliously tithing the herbs of
their gardens for the Church, and neglecting the
weightier matters of the law — judgment, mercy, and
truth. He means substantially the same thing when
he tells them that they compass sea and land to make

328 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

a proselyte, and yet devour widows' houses. He
means that the works of piety, that is, Church duties,
have their own position, and can never be put in the
place of righteous living, of liberality, of just dealing, of
purity, of benevolence : that those who attempt such
substitution are prostituting religion, and turning
Church duties and professions from good into bad
works ; are labeling sin with inscriptions of holiness ;
are putting robes of beauty on a decaying corpse.

The unrenewed world does not set up for a judge of
our religious performances, but they are fully resolved
to judge our morals, and they are right. In doing so
they adopt the very test of Christ and the apostles.
They repeat, with an ominous taunt, "By their fruits
ye shall know them." They care nothing about our
zeal in going to church, our eloquence in prayer,
our melting songs. They want to see whether we
stick to the truth in our conversation ; whether we
are guilty of fraud in our dealings ; whether we are
greedy of filthy lucre — slanderous, sneaking, mean.
If we are, they despise us all the more for our pray-
ers. And they ought. If we ourselves are asked to
choose between an infidel whose outward life is
blameless, and a professing Christian who has noth-
ing to recommend him but his diligence in Church
duties, we take the infidel a thousand times for our
brother sooner than that hypocrite of a professing
Christian, who has been created in Christ Jesus,
as he says, but not unto good works. Fie upon his
religion ! away with it ! " Why call ye me Master, and
do not the things which I say ? " The whitewash is
not deep enough to hide the dirt ; the boast of a
high state of feeling is a base pretense or a fatal

SAL VA TIOJST B Y WORKS. 329

delusion — a mere jack-o'-lantern flame, arising out of
the pestilent marsh of an unclean fancy, stirred up
by licentious passions. No ; if the feeling be genuine,
and the new creation real, good works — works of
truth, of benevolence, of justice, of purity — as well as
religious duties, so-called, will result.

This same test, which is applied by Christ and the
apostles in the Scriptures, which the world so properly
applies to our professions, and the same distinction
which is made here between mere Church duties and
those of Christian virtue and morality, will be brought
to bear in the decisions of the last judgment. What
is the meaning of that scene which our Saviour pict-
ures in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew? There
is the Judge on his throne ; all nations are gathered
before him, the righteous on his right and the wicked
on his left. Is there a word about faith ? about going
to Church ? about good prayer-meetings ? about relig-
ious joy ? or about mere Church duties of any sort ?
Not a syllable. These were all precious in their
place to the true Christian, but they were not ends,
but means to ends — to just, honest, chaste, truthful,
merciful, liberal, holy ends. But how does the scene
of the last day, as Christ paints it, proceed ? on what
principle ? Why, purely upon the principle of good
works. Faith and profession have had their day ; now
comes the trial of them. What have they yielded ?
what were their fruits ? Did they feed the hungry ?
clothe the naked ? visit the sick and the prisoner ?
Such is the nature of the questions in the last
day ; and the decision is, Forasmuch as ye have fed,
clothed, and visited the least of these, ye have done
the same unto Me.

330 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

Nay, further, our Lord in the Sermon on the Mount
informs us that many shall say to him in the great
day, " Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name ?
and in thy name have cast out devils ? and in thy
name done many wonderful works ? " That is, they
will plead their religious profession, their faith, and
their purely ecclesiastical labors, and the Lord tells
us what will be his answer: "Then will I profess
unto them, I never knew you : depart from me, ye that
work iniquity." There it is again : Ye that, instead
of good works, only work iniquity, depart ; depart, for
the want of good works. Your religion was noisy
and pretentious ; it was full of " Lord, Lord," and
wonderful works, and pretending to cast out devils.
But it was a worthless thing, because it was linked
with no good works, such as were before ordained
that we should walk in them — works of upright citi-
zenship ; works of good neighborhood ; works of just
merchandise and fair trade ; works of truthful and
charitable speaking ; works of piety to the poor, of
charity — such works as forbid avarice and covetous-
ness, malice and envy.

In these two sermons, brethren, I have tried to
present the two aspects of divine truth. Either
taken apart from the other is not true. It is true
that we are saved by grace, "without the deeds of
the law," according to divine mercy, and not by works
of righteousness which we have done. But yet that
is not the whole truth of salvation ; the other part is,
that he that is truly saved is made a new creature,
and begins at once to work for God and man. If he
does not, then he is not a new creature, but is still in
the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity,

SAL VA TION B Y WORKS. 3 3 I

and professing religion, turns the truth of God into
a lie.

Again, in the sense of the Apostle James we "are
saved by works ; " by works is faith made perfect ;
by works shall men know that we are born from
above. We have no claim upon their confidence
except that of our good works ; they are bound to es-
teem us only as we are truthful, honest, benevolent,
and pure ; and even in the last day we shall be judged
according to the deeds done in the body. But if any
one should take good works alone— -severing them
from that gracious work in the soul which comes only
of the mercy of God, without human merit, then, in
that case, good works become a falsehood, a baseless
Pharisaic boast, with no root of true internal good-
ness. Each is true only when the two are united.
Salvation is by grace, without our own merit, through
faith ; but it is a salvation unto good works, having
good works for its aim ; it is a salvation, also, into
good works, having in it, as part of its very nature,
the elements out of which good works grow ; having
in it the kernels of principle and feeling, of motive
and bent, from which good works need only to be
developed by an industrious, watchful, progressive
Christian life. If you have been pardoned you have
been pardoned into a new and holy nature, out of an
old and sinful one. The work of God within is a new
creation, to which unmerited mercy opened the way ;
but when that creation took place it brought with it
the image of God. This much is implied in the very
word creation. If a nature has not been bestowed
which will produce good works, the creation has
been in vain ; there has been a creation and no

332 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

creation — a creation which has made no change for
the better.

A few reflections in conclusion :

First, We find that although salvation is not of
works but of mercy, through our Lord Jesus Christ,
yet salvation, to be genuine, must bring us into a
state in which we do good works. Nay, still stronger :
we are created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works.
The whole of religion is only meant to put the soul
in working order, to fit it to do the good works which
God had before ordained or prescribed for it. What
a word have we here, my brethren ! When God
awakened us and called us, when he heard our peni-
tent cry and drew us up out of the pit, when he
planted in us the hearing ear and the understanding
heart, when faith came, bringing in its train the
other graces of the Spirit, its companions — it was all
only a summons to work, and a preparation for it.

Does a man construct a piece of machinery just
to have a pretty thing, or to show his skill ? Every
stroke of his hammer, every scrape of his file, says,
Work, work ! Every joint and screw in the machine
is a prophecy of work. So when God rebuilt thee
from thy ruin — when he called back the lost fire of
heaven into thy soul, and made the dead heart palpi-
tate again with divine life — it was not only to show
that he could work like a God, as he is ; it was not
mainly that thou mightest be filled with joy, but
rather that thou mightest be strong to work ; that
thy liberated, enfranchised soul might enter into his
vineyard, water its plants with thy sweat, and make
its furrows team by the use of thy hoe.

Yes, yes ; all the good that is in thee is there to

SAL VA TION BY WORKS. 333

work. Thy faith, thy light, thy love, thy strength —
all those mighty forces that are included in the new-
creation — were meant to rise in power, to go forth in
ceaseless, restless, eager work for God and man. Let
the faith that is in thee strike ; let the love that is
within thee burn and melt ; let the light in thy soul
shine ; let all within thee wrork — work the works of
him who redeemed thee !

Allow me to remind you, trite though the thought
be, of the dignity of work. Nobler is the toilsome
ant than the gorgeous butterfly floating aimless in
the sunlight. Worthier is the russet-coated robin
that earns its living with its song than the useless
peacock with a hundred suns in its tail. Any right-
minded man would rather be an industrious and vir-
tuous wood-sawryer than a useless and lazy lord.
Work is creative. The plane, the trowel, the sawT, the
hammer, with their oft-repeated motions, create cities.
Every blow of the hoe, every furrow of the plow,
creates bread. It is the loaf of bread and the rising
palace that reflect honor on hoe and plow, on hod
and trowel.

But if such is the dignity of mere handiwork, what
shall be said of that of the intellect and heart? Es-
pecially, and above all, how shall we measure and
weigh the glory of that work which labors to express
God in all the excellency of his character, and to
make men, ourselves and others, better and happier ?
O blessed work of raising men from the dead, of
purifying and beautifying our race, and thus winning
them as jewels for our crown !

Nor must we, dear brethren, forget the need for
our work : how much the Church wants it, and how

334 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

much the world around us ; how far our own society
is from being what it should be ; how many there are
in it to be quickened ; how many ready to straggle on
the march ; how many to be instructed in the first
principles of the doctrines of Christ ; how much to
be done to make the Church a powerful engine for
good. And when we look at the world the sight is
appalling. How much there is to be done, and how
insufficient are our best powers, even fully worked, for
the task ! How shall we diminish the great mountain
of evil which towers before us and blackens the very
sky ? Courage, Christian worker ! we are only help-
ers of God and his angels. It is his work, and we
are only journeymen. One day with him is as a
thousand years, and a thousand years as a day. Let
us lay on the blows in good, earnest, workmanlike
fashion ; in his own time God will bring in the victory.
We shall see it from the mountains of heaven.

Nor must we forget that work is the key-note of
the world. The sun is a strong man to run a race ;
the moon and stars move on in ceaseless march ; the
sea groans in the labor of its restless tides ; the earth
trembles under the glut of its own products ; birds,
fishes, beasts, all work out the power within them.
Man is under the same law. The rush of business
in our thronged cities, the turmoil of politics, the
ceaseless struggle of science, must preach to the
Church. The world's mighty motion must not be
checked when we come to religion. Here is double
— a hundred-fold — cause for work. Science strug-
gles for the light of earth, business for worldly wealth,
politics for civil welfare, but religion for heavenly
light, for celestial riches, and eternal well-being. If,

SAL VA TION B 7 WORKS. 335

therefore, we are laborious in our earthly callings, we
should be a thousand times more so in religion.

Brethren, the cross is our only salvation, but in
good deeds we enjoy and prove our salvation ; mercy
saves us, but our good works are the means of saving
others ; the cross will be the only pillow for the
Christian's dying head, but good works will strew his
bed with fragrant memories ; the cross alone can
open for us the gate of heaven, but our good works
will follow us in. In a word, though good works are
worthless to procure salvation, yet they are worthy
of the esteem and gratitude of men, of the pen of the
recording angel, and of the memory of God. " And
behold I come quickly ; and my reward is with me,
to give every man according as his work shall be."

33^ THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

XV.
SIN SELF-AVENGING

Be sure your sin will find you out. — Numbers xxxii, 23.

LAW, in some form or other, pervades the uni-
verse ; and this law is found not simply in the
order, whether natural or moral, which the great
Creator has established, and according to which he
intends his creation shall move ; but it consists further
in the fact that when the law is violated the violation
is harmful. For instance, it is a law of the vegetable
kingdom that the orange-tree shall flourish only in
warm climates. Now if this tree be transferred to one
of the bleak hills of Connecticut the first winter will
kill it, and its death in the cold climate will be as
much according to natural law as its prosperous and
fruitful growth in its native tropics. The death of
the tree in the cold climate is, so to speak, the law
provided for the violation of another law.

Again, it is a law of agriculture that the crop shall
be planted at a particular time, and it is another law
that if the first law is violated the crop shall fail.
This principle holds also in religion. For example,
religion requires us to refrain from sin ; that is em-
phatically the law of religion ; but if we violate this
law the resulting injury follows by a law just as valid
as that by which sin was forbidden. The law is not

SIN SELF- A VENG1NG. 337

simply the command to do thus and so ; it is also the
rule by which punishment, injury, follows if we re-
fuse. The law, whether in nature or morals, includes
the penalty as well as the command, and the penalty
or injury is as much a natural result of disobedience
as advantage is of obedience. A tree girdled with
the strokes of an ax near the ground does not re-
quire to be killed by authority — it dies naturally. A
soul that devotes itself to sin does not require an act
of divine authority to injure and blight it — spiritual
death creeps over it, like the blight over the girdled
tree.

The same law holds in regard to civil society. The
disobedience of a citizen to good laws not only injures
his own private character, making him a worse man,
but the offenses of individuals damage the State both
by example and by the fact that the offenders injure
the State in themselves as parts of it.

But then the nation, as such, cannot rely upon the
natural punishment of sin ; and if criminals were
only punished by the natural results of their crimes,
there could be no government. Hence the nation
must pass laws ; and when these laws are violated
the civil authority, not waiting for nature to inflict
punishment, must proceed to carry out the penalty
in an outward way, by means of the judiciary and
the other legal appliances ; the prison, the fine, the
scaffold, must work to give crime its deserts.

And yet, after all, this is no real exception to the

principle that sin is its own avenger — no denial of the

assertion that punishment follows sin naturally, and

according to an inward law. It is true that the law

of the State is outwardly and formally expressed, and

22

33^ THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

the penalty is outwardly and formally applied ; but
the law, as far as it is just, is only the utterance
of the law of man's position in civil society, and
punishment is a law essential to the maintenance of
these laws of society. It is still true that crime pro-
duces misery naturally. The criminals of society
commit their offenses ; the injury of them must either
fall upon society, or the government must ward off
the injury from society and transfer it to the heads
of the offenders themselves. Thus it is seen that the
principle that sin is its own avenger inheres neces-
sarily in the very structure of civil government. If
government would continue to exist, if it would not
be resolved into its elements, broken into fragments,
it must punish the violation of its laws. So that if
we consider civil government as a necessary form of
human life, sin is still its own avenger ; even there
punishment follows crime by a law quite as natural
and necessary as that by which government itself
exists.

We apply this universally to morals to-day, and our
proposition is, Sin its own avenger.

When we declare sin to be its own avenger, and
assert that it cannot be committed without injury, we
do not, of course, intend to deny the pleasures of sin.
It is never committed merely, for its own sake. But
yet — whatever may be the excitement ; however the
blood may leap with wanton delight ; however the
lusts may glory in gratification ; however, for the hour,
we may forget all notions of law, and virtue, and God
— yet, in the very midst of the joy, sin is making its
mark, working its ruin. It is like a skillful trapper who
draws on the unsuspecting bird with the glittering

SOT SELF- A VENGING. 339

bait until it walks joyfully into the trap, without
knowing that it has left the safe, open air. It is like
the wine of which Solomon speaks, which moveth
itself aright, which giveth its glowing color in the cup,
but by and by biteth like a serpent and stingeth like
an adder. When the bait is devoured, the bird finds
itself in the trap ; and when the debauch is over, then
come the qualms, the retching, the delirium tremens.

We mean that, while we admit the pleasurable ex-
citements of sin, still, even amid the glare and glow of
pleasure, it is disfiguring and ruining the soul. The
sinful gratification is at the expense of injury to the
spirit, so that sin is self-avenging even while it
gratifies.

But sin not only avenges itself by injuring the
soul ; it goes further, and makes us conscious of the
harm which it inflicts. It belongs to universal human
experience some time or other to feel the hatefulness,
the wrong, the sinfulness of sin. That is, when we
have glutted our appetites sinfully, and pampered
and inflated our passions against God's law ; when
men have filled their pockets dishonestly, and have
gloated over their accumulations ; when men have
reveled in the oppressions and cruelties of pride and
ambition ; when they have danced to the music of the
siren, and for the hour have been turned into swine —
not only do they find themselves fallen and defiled ;
not only do they see that while they enjoyed them-
selves by trampling on the law of God sin was mak-
ing havoc with their souls, giving them a wound for
every pulsation of pleasure, leaving a scar for every
delight ; but, besides the injury during the riot of
pleasure, sin has the power to make the injury seen

340 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

and felt — to make its own nature to be seen and felt
as unmitigated evil, and of the deepest and dreadest
kind.

This consciousness of sin in its nature is what is
called conviction, and takes place when the divine law
is laid upon our character as a measure ; when it is ap-
plied to our affections and motives and actions as a
test ; when we get a sight of what had in reality been
going on in our hearts, in our nature, while we were
so miserably happy in transgression. Then we see
and feel the sting and poison of the adder whose
golden scales and graceful convolutions had alone
been visible before. The dreadful hour of quiet has
come ; the lights in the festive hall of sinful revelry
have been lowered ; the lordly guests have been dis-
placed by goblins and chimeras dire, and instead
of the music and the song he hears only the wail of
anguish, and sees only the dreadful handwriting on
the wall, " Thou art weighed in the balances and
art found wanting."

Now it is that the painful self-accusings come —
the sense of blame in the highest meaning of blame,
of impurity, of guilt. It is true, the Scriptures teach
us- that this sense of sin is brought home to us by the
Holy Spirit applying the law and quickening our
conscience ; still it is not the less the avenging of
sin ; that is, when the commandment came sin re-
vived and the soul died. " Sin, taking occasion by the
commandment, slew the soul ; " that is, the Holy
Spirit, the law, the conscience, all wrought in the
interest of sin's power, played into the hand of sin,
magnified sin, made it more awful. It was accord-
ing to the law of sin, according to the law by which

SIN SELF- A VENGING. 34 1

sin is conditioned, according to the law which fol-
lows sin to plague and to punish its committers, that
when the Holy Spirit brought home to the conscience
the pure spiritual law of God, sin, like a serpent
awaking from its winter torpor, stung the soul to the
quick; so that what is holiest, divinest, in the Gospel
became the auxiliary of sin in its work of self-
avenging.

Look at that poor publican in the temple, not dar-
ing to lift his eyes to heaven, standing afar off, smit-
ing upon his breast ; sin is avenging itself upon him.
See that persecuting Saul, blind and wretched for
three days, in the street called Strait at Damascus ;
sin is taking vengeance on him. See those multi-
tudes on the day of Pentecost, and hear their cry of
bitterness ; they have been cut to the heart by this
avenger. Whenever you see a convicted sinner, and
behold him drinking the wormwood and the gall, and
confessing himself a guilty wretch, deserving to be
still more wretched, you have an example of the
avenging power of sin. Sin has found him out ; sin
is insisting upon its pound of flesh, its right to pun-
ish, to make miserable, to torture, to slaughter.

Through the mercy of God, however, this form of
sin's avenging may be turned to good account. After
this storm will come a calm ; but it may be a calm
of life or of death. If, siding with the Holy Spirit
and the law against ourselves, we repent of and turn
away from what we see to be so infinitely hateful and
hurtful ; if we cry out to God against ourselves and
against sin, while we still confess the justice of its
terrible revenge; if, receiving the full shock of its
assault, and accepting the bitter cup which it presses

342 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

to our lips, we transfer it to Jesus, and plead that he
has atoned for it — then, while sin will still be avenged,
we shall be avenged in the end against it ; we shall
be saved.

But, on the other hand, suppose we quench the
Spirit, and get over our woes by tearing ourselves,
our thoughts, loose from them ; by refusing to dwell
upon the corruptions of heart and life which have
been disclosed to us ; by turning our eyes away from
the divine law in whose light sin seems so horrible,
and by rushing on in the old paths, until we become
morally insensible. Have we by such a course con-
quered sin ? Will its work of vengeance be less sure ?
Let us see. We may drown our convictions, but can
we drown sin ? We may dull our perceptions of its
enormity, but we shall only thereby sharpen the
weapons and strengthen the hands of sin. When
two armies are engaged in deadly conflict, what
weakens one relatively strengthens the other ; but if
one yields, the other, of course, is more than strength-
ened; it is triumphant ; it is all-conquering ; it now has
no enemy in its way, but has every thing to its mind.
So it is when convictions are crushed out — sin is not
only stronger, it is mightily and supremely dominant.
We may become hardened and forget it, but it will
not forget itself or its work, it goes on to complete ;
and permanently to establish, its sovereignty. When a
husbandman despairs of reclaiming a field overrun
with noxious weeds, and forgets it, do the weeds for-
get to grow and to spread ? When a nation, blinded
by the shows and festivities vouchsafed by a tyrant,
forgets its liberties, does the tyrant forget to seize
the last franchise, to impose the last chain, and to

SIN SELF-AVENGING. 343

fasten the last rivet of their fetters ? Is not the case
of the field of weeds worse after it is forgotten than
it was while the farmer was sweating in the sun in
the painful effort to dig them up ? Is not the case
of the people worse while they are forgetting their
liberties in the midst of the revels provided by the
tyrant than when they were resolutely laboring amid
wounds and death to save their rights ?

So is it with men who ignore their sins — who suc-
ceed in forgetting that sin is sin, that God hates it,
or even that God exists, or who try to persuade them-
selves that he is altogether such a one as themselves.
They may be more lively, more happy, than a trem-
bling jailer or a weeping Peter ; they may get a great
deal of a certain sort of enjoyment out of the clods,
out of merchandise, out of money, out of fraud, de-
bauchery, treachery, falsehood, covetousness, gratified ;
they may chuckle to think that they have outwitted
themselves, outlived the very idea of sin ; but that is
all ; they have not outlived sin itself. This root of
all curses is pleased to be forgotten while, like a rob-
ber among drugged sleepers, it has been all the while
doing its work. It has been a blazing brand, searing
the conscience ; it has been a deadly frost, freezing the
affections which should have sent their vestal flame up
to God ; it has been a fearful, cancerous lie, eating truth
out of the soul ; it has been profanity, destroying every
tendency to divine worship ; it has been a moral mur-
derer ; and the man who has thus permanently gotten
rid of all sense of sin is twice dead —plucked up by
the roots. Sin has, indeed, found him out ; sin is
avenged in the complete ruin of his soul.

Few men, however, succeed in so completely cor-

344 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

rupting themselves as to get entirely rid of all sense
of sin. Many of those who seem to be the worst
have occasional compunctious visitings that make
existence almost insupportable. In periods of trouble
or sickness, or in the hour of death, the conscience
reasserts its authority ; it throws off, for the time, the
superincumbent mountain of the rubbish and filth of
sin, and gives the leprous soul a view of the horrid
thing it is. And then remorse, one of the terrific
ministers of sin, lowers upon him like a cormorant.
Like a vulture, it clutches his heart with its poisoned
talons, and sin adds to the vengeance of ruin the
vengeance of unutterable misery, the misery of con-
scious guilt — of wrath.

But let us not suppose for a moment that sin is
only an avenger in the case of the extremely wicked.
Every sin, no matter how apparently slight, or even
respectable, is of the nature of the worst ; it grew
upon the same tree, and, whatever the texture or color
of its rind, it contains the same poisonous juice.
It avenges itself with a power proportioned to its
strength. Your heart, my friend, is yet vulnerable
to the light. You frequently receive a frightening
glance from conscience to remind you of what is going
on within, or of what is preparing for you. O let that
glance recall thee from thy wanderings ! Be avenged
on thy sin before it is fatally and forever avenged on
thee!

So inexorable is the law which makes sin self-
avenging that even good men, in a certain sense, are
held responsible for past offenses. Habits of sin, for
instance, that had grown to be a second nature by
continuance, may be broken by repentance, but are

SIN SELF- A VENGING. 345

still likely to continue during life sources of tempta-
tion, requiring constant watchfulness. Diseases of
the body and weaknesses of the mind, brought on by
sinful indulgence, are apt to remain behind as the
punishment of sin, even when the heart has been
renewed.

And then there are special sins which, however
they may be forgiven by an all-merciful Saviour, we
feel we can never forgive ourselves for. Who of you,
with a mother gone to rest, does not sometimes re-
call his ingratitude and disobedience, and feel that he
would give the world to have these things blotted
from his past history ? It is not enough to satisfy
us that God has blotted them out of his book. I
have somewhere seen a story of a little boy whose
sick father requested him to take a prescription to
the drug store and bring home quickly the medicine
it called for. The little fellow was anxious to con-
tinue his play and did not go, but told a lie to cover
his offense ; and in the evening, when he sat by the
bedside of that sick father, that father turned his lan-
guid eyes, full of affection, upon the boy and said :
" Suppose my little son should lose his father for the
want of that medicine ! " The little boy did not still
confess his offense. That parent died that night, and
the next morning the sinning child could no longer
unburden his aching heart by confession to his father.
This boy lived to grow up ; do you think he could
ever sit down and think calmly of that transaction
without compunctions, without bitter, soul-harrowing
repentance ? What an idea ! The last word he ever
uttered to his departed father was a falsehood, meant
to hide a fault which perhaps hastened his father's end !

346 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

This is a story from the early life of a Christian.
God had forgiven him, but to get his own forgiveness
was another thing, and utterly and properly impos-
sible. It will not prevent him from entering the new
Jerusalem, but still that sin will be ancl is avenged.

Though sin is avenged by this inexorable law, God
does not leave it a matter of doubt that the admin-
istration of this natural law is his own. He declares
that he is carrying on the government of the world ;
that these laws are laws indeed, but still they are
modes of the divine operation ; that snow and vapor
and stormy wind fulfill his word ; that pestilence and
famine come at his command, and that the punish-
ment of sin pursues the divine order, and sometimes
becomes more directly his act, the effect of his mani-
fest interposition. If Judas, for example, is left to
go to his own place under the ordinary operation of
the law by which deceivers wax worse and worse,
Elymas, the sorcerer, is struck blind, and Ananias
and Sapphira dead, by the immediate act of God ;
if, as a rule, since the days of the apostles the law
operates regularly, without the hand of Providence
ungloving itself, yet even now it is sometimes other-
wise, and God steps out before the gaze of men and
lets them see him hurl his lightnings upon the guilty
heads of sinners that dare to mock him.

It is wonderful what a number of well-authenticated
cases there are on record of direct and swift judg-
ments upon blasphemers. Melanchthon, the great
Reformer, tells of a company of men who attempted
to perform a tragedy representing Christ's death on
the cross, but God judged them suddenly. He that
acted the part of the soldier who pierced the Saviour's

SIM SELF- A VENGING. 347

side with a spear, instead of merely puncturing the
bladder filled with blood hid under the clothing of
the man on the cross, gave him a mortal wound ;
falling dead from the cross, he killed another who
was below him and acting the part of a woman weep-
ing. The brother of him who was first slain killed
his slayer, and, in his turn, was executed for murder
by the civil authorities. This account is given by
Melanchthon, one of the most learned and cautious
of all the Reformers. We have read an account of a
man who had derided the difference between Sunday
and other days, and gathered in his crop on that holy
day. The next week he had occasion to take fire
into his field to burn brush. He left it, as he sup-
posed, in safety, and went to dinner. Meantime the
wind carried the fire into his barnyard, where it com-
municated with combustible materials, and soon the
barn itself, containing the Sunday-gathered crop, was
enveloped in flames. The man rushed out in amaze-
ment, stood before the roaring flame for awhile
speechless, and then, pointing toward it, said with
solemn emphasis, " That is the finger of God."

I myself once attended the funeral of a youth who
died of consumption, and who had made a hopeful pro-
fession of faith upon his sick-bed. Among others
who were present at the funeral services was a brother,
a gay and wicked young man. In stating the young
man's Christian profession during his sickness I sol-
emnly warned his friends not to look or wait for
mercy in such an hour ; that, instead of a lingering
sickness such as he had, if they further put off their
repentance God might call them off suddenly without
the opportunity of repentance. This surviving brother

348 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

was thoughtful for awhile ; he started for a neighbor-
ing city, saying that when he returned he would give
his attention to divine things. He returned, con-
tinued his former life, and, a few days after getting
back, took a cold, and in a fit of coughing broke a
bloodvessel and died in a moment. I said and felt,
" That is the finger of God." Sin will be avenged.
Thus God, to illustrate and enforce the truth of his
law that evil must follow sin — that it will bring pun-
ishment either in the form of increased corruption or
of misery — sometimes steps out from the clouds and
darkness, and strikes the wretched offender with a
bolt from his own right hand, whicli is visible to all
except the willfully blind.

Our illustrations and proofs of the principle or as-
sertion that sin is self-avenging have so far been
confined to the present life. But the Scriptures teach
us that the principle, if not more certainly, is more
awfully true in the next. If it were not so then the
man who most thoroughly perverts himself, who
strangles and blinds his conscience so as to have
left no thought, no feeling of sin, no pangs of guilt, no
throes of remorse, has really conquered sin by multi-
plying it. Then that moral ruin which a man piles
upon himself by heaping sin on sin without number
or measure until he no longer feels it, is no ruin at all,
but only an escape from human folly and weakness.
And is this indeed the meaning of man's moral con-
stitution ? Has God set up in man's nature the dis-
tinction between wrong and right, vice and virtue, sin
and holiness, so that human governments and fami-
lies are obliged to act upon the distinction — so that
virtue has in all ages been praised, and crime in all

SIJST SELF-A VENGING. 349

ages stigmatized — and yet shall it be true that to be-
come complete in sin, free from any bright spot of
holiness upon a nature black with iniquity, is the
way to escape punishment, not only in this, but also
in the future world ? Does not the very existence of
a thoroughly corrupted man, wholly disregarding God
and his law, prove the existence of another state of
being, in which the divine and moral order of the
world shall be vindicated ? Shall God link punish-
ment to sin by a general law, and yet shall there be a
pitch of sin which shall set its authors beyond the
reach of the law ? No, no ; he that heaps up sin
heaps up wrath against the day of wrath. Sin enters
into the very web of the character, into the very
nature of the spirit ; and when that spirit reaches the
next world, it is but uttering a truism to say he car-
ries his character with him.

Again, the future world is one of complete retribu-
tions. Here retribution is but partial; there are
many things operating to prevent it from being com-
plete. Indeed, this lies in its very nature as a state
of trial Wicked men may be rich, good men may
be poor ; wicked men may be healthy, pious men
sick, and the like. But in a world in which trial is
over and retribution is complete, moral causes will
operate without hinderance ; the good shall be com-
pletely happy, and the wicked completely miserable.
Then it will be seen that misery is at once the
natural product of law and the awful stroke of the
divine chastisement.

One of the irregularities and peculiarities of a state
of trial is that sin may work until it forgets it is sin ;
it may work until the soul becomes insensible of its

3 5 O THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

nature ; until the devils that tread with burning feet
the indurated floors of its blackened chambers shall
seem to be angels ; to use a horrid paradox, men may
sin themselves into happiness, such happiness as it
is. But in a world of perfect retribution, where the
trial is entirely over, the slaughtered consciousness
of moral character and moral qualities is revivified.
If it were not so there could be no retribution ; there
could be no vindication of the Divine government ;
sin would not be punished as sin ; the offense against
God would not be seen to be a ground of punish-
ment.

It follows also from the fact that the future life is
one of complete retribution that the pleasures of sin,
as they were known in this life, will fall off. An
apostle well assures us that the pleasures of sin are
but for a season. They begin to decay even in this
world — old age wears out the passions and appetites
from which they spring, or destroys the capacity to
gratify them ; sickness or misfortune performs for
them a similar office, but in the eternal world sin is
handed over to strict and impartial punishment, and
as the good in heaven lose all misery, so the evil, in
the world of woe, lose all enjoyment. In the terrible
language of Scripture, " Their worm dieth not, and
the fire is not quenched."

In conclusion, then, the certain wages of sin is
death ; " Be sure your sin will find you out." If thou
bury thy sin from the eyes of men, and in darkness do
thy deeds of darkness, to God the darkness shineth
as the day — to him the darkness and the light are
both alike. If thou intoxicate thyself with the de-
lights of sin, and roll it as a sweet morsel under thy

SIN SELF-A VENGING. 3 5 *

tongue, and in a constant round of pleasure seek to
forget that sin has any meaning but joy, thou shalt
be undeceived ; disgust and remorse shall come in
after the poisoned banquet, and among the faded,
poisonous flowers of the ungodly revel thou shalt see
and hear the crawling and hissing serpents, the very
spawn of sin. If thou shalt conquer thy sense of sin,
and, by very force and exuberance of wickedness, free
thyself from its punishments, so that, like the fools
spoken of in the Bible, thou canst " make a mock at
sin," thy seeming subversion of the law by which
sin is its own avenger is, in reality, only a more fear-
ful fulfillment of it. If thou hast lost thy sense of sin
and of its dangers, sin is only the more completely
and awfully avenged ; pain would have been a sign of
possible life, but even that is now gone, and sin is in-
deed avenged. Thv first awaking will be in torment.
But, finally, dost thou trust to escape by human
ingenuity ? by subtle reasonings, which shall fortify
thee against the fear of danger ? Wilt thou use the
god-like faculty of reason, intended only to be subor-
dinated to the dictates of thy moral nature and to
God, for the purpose of showing that there is no
abiding difference between good and evil, right and
wrong, a man and a beast, filth and purity — between
God and the devil ? " Be sure your sin will find you
out ;" it will still go straight forward, according to the
law by which it wounds and kills ; it will ignore the
paltry, base-born ingenuity which affected to ignore
it. Cobwebs, however gilded, will be seen to be cob-
webs ; the garment of sophisms in which it wras
clothed will drop ; it will still be sin — sin to be hated
and punished. O, what an avenger !

352 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

The law of the land may punish thee, and yet thou
mayest be innocent and happy ; men may unjustly
avenge their supposed affronts upon thee, fortune may
avenge itself in thy poverty, yet thy fortitude may
bear thee up under all these afflictions ; but the most
dreadful of all avengers is sin. Its punishment is
overwhelming. It kills beyond the grave.

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRA TER. 353

XVI.

PRAYER THE MEANS OF ATTAINING TO CER-
TAINTY IN DIVINE THINGS.

And Cornelius said, Four days age I was fasting until this hour ;
and at the ninth hour I prayed in ray house, and, behold, a man stood
before me in bright clothing, and said, Cornelius, thy prayer is
heard, and thine alms are had in remembrance in the sight of God.
— Acts x, 30, 31.

OUR Saviour in one place says: "If any man
will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine,
whether it be of God, or whether I speak of myself."
That is, the honest wish to do right is the very spirit in
which to find out what bright ; and the actual doing of
right, as far as we have found it out, is the sure path to
higher and completer knowledge. Such a life, so be-
gun and so continued, is under the divine guidance,
and is blessed with the divine communion. God
will assure the man who leads such a life what are
the essential truths of his religion.

But if the spirit of sincere and active obedience is
the spirit in which to find certainty in sacred things,
we must not overlook the fact that obedience ismade
up of many acts, some inward and some outward.
Now, is there not some act by which the very soul
and spirit of obedience is most directly expressed ?

some mode of spiritual life out of which obedience is

23

354 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

evolved, and by which the soul ascends to God, who
alone can give divine certainty? We answer, There
is such a form of spiritual life, and it is no other than
prayer. In prayer there is immediate contact and
communion between God and man. Therein God
and man are drawn together. The spirit of obedience
finds its birth in prayer, its utterance in prayer ;
prayer is its mouth, its organ ; by it, and by it alone,
the man comes in the spirit of obedience to God.

In all other forms of obedience, where the soul
works and suffers for God, it is true that it is forming
a noble character and fitting itself to be a receptacle
of heavenly communications, a tablet on which the
divine pen may write, in letters of splendid certainty,
its heavenly revelations. But the writing time, when
the soul becomes conscious of the motion of the di-
vine pen, is the time of prayer ; for then the tablet is
uncovered, and the soul invites the tracings of the
divine finger. Its cry then is :

" My potter, stamp on me thy clay,
Thy favorite stamp of love.1'

And thus it comes to pass in actual experience.
It was so in the case of Cornelius — while he prayed
in his house the angel appeared and gave him the
needed knowledge ; it was so with Peter — while he
prayed on the house-top he fell into the trance which
delivered him from his Jewish bigotry and expanded
his mind to the comprehension of the fact that God
is no respecter of persons. While the form of the
experience may not be supernatural, as in the cases
of Cornelius and Peter, yet all Christians have, like
them, become most conscious of the certainty of divine
things in their prayers.

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRAYER. 355

Our theme, then, is, Prayer, the organ of spiritual
certainty.

In matters of science the intellect is sufficient, or,
at least, is all we have. A proposition in mathematics
is proven, and there is an end of it ; it belongs to
the region of the intellect, and does not go beyond it.
In history, if a fact is contested, the way out of the
difficulty is to array the evidence for and against, to
strike the balance, and to decide in favor of the
weight of proof. Though there may still be ground
for doubt, yet there is no way of taking the question
out of the sphere of the intellect ; it must find its so-
lution there or not at all. The questions of science
and of profane history are purely mundane, and do
not rise into the regions of spiritual influence or com-
munion.

With religion it is far otherwise. While it is a
matter of earthly history, for the Son of God lived on
the earth — while its revelations were given in time,
and are supported by great miraculous facts which
must be judged like the facts of profane history —
yet it appeals to spiritual influences ; it affirms that
there are spiritual ministries, such as angels, that are
constantly at work among the spirits of men ; that
even the Spirit of God comes into contact with hu-
man thought, holds intercourse with it, and inspires
and directs it. Nay, while religion has a history on
earth, even this history itself lies more in the spiritual
than in the earthly sphere. It is a history of men
who held intercourse with the upper world ; who saw
spirits ; who talked with God, and kept company with
angels, and gave revelations from heaven ; and the
object of all this strange life, which was above the

35^ THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

earth on which it transpired, was to carry men be-
yond the sphere of the senses into the invisible — to
bring them into communion with God himself, the
infinite Spirit.

Now, how shall the soul that longs to know God
— to feel the certainty of the spiritual and invisible
world- — so far free itself from the trammels of sense
as to attain this spiritual life and knowledge ? Is
the intellect enough ? To examine the historical
evidences of religion and to be convinced that they
are sufficient, it may be ; but, as compared with science
and profane history, at what an immense disadvan-
tage is religion placed in this respect ! In mathe-
matics, here are the lines and angles before the eyes ;
in chemistry, here is the matter, visible and tangible,
as the changes pass upon it in the experiments ; in
profane history, here are the simply human facts that
have always been questioned in a merely human
form, and that seek and admit of no other mode of
treatment — facts like them lie all about us, address-
ing themselves to our senses and to our intellect, and
to these only. But in religion, how different ! God
has revealed himself, yet no man hath seen him or
can see him ; heaven is laid open, but not to the
fleshly vision ; the future and invisible life are brought
into view, but it does not address our senses at all,
and our intellect only indirectly. And although the
intellect may find the proof of an invisible and future
life rationally involved in the evidences of the Chris-
tian religion, yet how these spiritual things refuse to
become real in a worldly atmosphere ! How they
are pushed from their intellectual standing-ground by
the world of mere sense ! How they fade away into

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THRO UGH PRA YER. 3 5 7

unreality before the ingenious attacks of skepticism,
and, most of all, before the power of the imagination !
We feel, in spite of all the proofs of the Christian
system which are furnished in our admirable books
of evidences, that, as we have organs adapted to the
world of sense, and a mind adapted to deal with intel-
lectual questions, so we need an organ through which
to deal with the spiritual and invisible world ; some-
thing to take us up in religion where mere logic
leaves us, that is, at the gates of Hades, at the border
of the invisible world ; something that will counter-
work the busy ingenuity of skepticism, especially as
it presents itself in the ever-fruitful imagination.
Such an organ we have in prayer. What the senses
are to the material world, and what the intellect is to
science, prayer is to the spiritual and invisible world.
With it we lay our soul's hand on the threshold of
heaven and feel it ; with it we come to the highest
and grandest demonstrations concerning God and
eternal life. Prayer is the sense — eye, hand, ear —
for the spiritual ; it is the argument with the in-
visible.

Bishop Butler, in the first chapter of the Analogy,
which is devoted to the argument for a future life,
after showing that there can be no objection to a fu-
ture life either from the reason of the thing or from the
analogy of nature, proceeds deliberately and at length
to answer the objections which arise from the imagina-
tion. He performs a good service, for he shows how
bad specimens may be dealt with. But, in reference
to these, it might almost be said that the world would
hardly contain the books that might be written to
answer them. One is no sooner disposed of by the

358 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

intellect than the creative faculty immediately pro-
duces a dozen more ; so that the intellect could not
reasonably hope to keep up with its antagonist.

We are often cautioned not to reason with the
devil, and are assured that he is more than a match
for us. If this be true — and we are not inclined to
question it — it is because he stimulates the imagina-
tion to suggest a thousand ways in which the most
ingenious arguments of the intellect may be made to
appear unsound. Still, though the contest may be
unequal, we will reason with the devil. It is a ne-
cessity for us ; we must feel that we are able to meet,
in some reasonable form, any given objection. But
when the imagination, under Satanic prompting or
otherwise, presents another and another, on and on
and on, then we feel the bootlessness of the contro-
versy, and find, though we may argue with the devil
so far as to feel we can answer him in given instances,
yet we can never exhaust him. After all our an-
swering there is more and more work of the same
sort for us ; so that if the answering of objections is
our great work it is never done, and if the intellect
alone is depended on we are always agitated with doubt.

This, we believe, is the experience of all thought-
ful Christians. They can clear away objection after
objection by the use of the intellect and argument,
but still they have made no perceptible impression on
the inherent productive force of skepticism — of the
imagination. There is one way, and only one way,
of answering them by the quantity, and by anticipa-
tion as they exist in possibility, and that is by prayer.
Ardent prayer opens heaven and lets down a stream
of light.

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRAYER. 359

" The world by wisdom knew not God ; " nay, we
cannot even know men, in the best and highest sense,
simply by wisdom — by the intellect. Is it ever pos-
sible for a critic to do justice to a great classic author
by the naked use of the intellect ? Johnson criticised
Shakspeare and Milton, but he lacked spiritual in-
sight into their noble souls, and their natures refused
to be searched by him ; the cold iron of his criticism
glanced from their resisting frames — the line of his
criticism was not long enough for the depth of their
genius. To criticise them justly he should have un-
derstood them and loved them, and to have done this
he must have held genial intercourse with their spir-
its ; but he had no wing to follow their flights, no
conception of higher flights. Southey, the poet,
wrote a life of Wesley ; but he had never, even for
an instant, climbed to that elevated plane of life on
which Wesley habitually lived. He saw him simply
through the lens of his intellect, and those delicate
tissues of feeling and motive and principle which are
the chief sources of movement in a heavenly mind were
invisible through that glass. He saw only mechanical
processes, where spiritual, divine processes were go-
ing on at the same time beneath. To have obtained
a true knowledge of Mr. Wesley's character he should
have been in sympathizing intercourse with his spirit
— he should have felt against his own bosom the
warm beat of Wesley's sanctified heart, and his own
keeping happy, holy time with it. This would have
furnished a deeper knowledge of the man, such as
the square and compass of mere outside criticism
cannot impart.

But let us alter the illustration. Who best under-

360 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

stands a living man ? Is it the person who goes to
work upon him merely as a study ? who, without the
use of the heart, measures him, as a surveyor would a
piece of ground, or as an engineer would take the
height of a mountain, and who has no love for him,
no kindly communion with him ? Or is it the man
who is in daily affectionate intercourse with him — who
knows him in such a sense as to be thoroughly trusted
by him ? It is to persons like the latter that the char-
acter and constitution of men yield up their secrets.
Others see them through the telescope, like stars
at a great distance ; these through the microscope,
near and perfectly. The cold critic knows men as a
traveler knows the foreign country through which he
makes a hasty tour ; a true friend knows as a man
knows his natal spot in which his soul delights.

The organ here is intercourse — the intercourse,
not only of the intellect, but chiefly of the affections.
Indeed, men who look at each other simply with the
intellect may be said to have no proper intercourse ;
they merely stand off and spy at each other from a
distance, or if they seem to come nearer it is simply
that they may play at fencing with cross purposes.
Only those who profoundly and tenderly love one
another have real intercourse ; their natures touch each
other and flow together; each becomes the soul of the
other, inspiring him and being inspired by him. Such
a man can tell with certainty what his friend thinks,
and how he feels, and even what he would say or do
in any given emergency. Thus it is that true knowl-
edge of men is in proportion to love and friendship,
and these come through intercourse as their organ.

Precisely so is it in the divine sphere. We have

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THRO CO II RRA YER. 36 I

to do not merely, nor chiefly, with a system of doc-
trines, or a series of facts, or with a collection of
attributes apart, but with a person, the highest of all
persons — with Jehovah himself. No merely logical
or philosophical study of his character as seen in the
Bible or in nature, no criticism of his attributes, can
bring us to certain knowledge of him. As in the
case of knowing men, we must go near him ; we
must enter into intercourse with him ; we must
have contact, converse, with him, spirit with spirit,
love with love, affection with affection. This, in the
human and the divine sphere, is the path to intima-
cy. Thus grows the earthly and the divine friend-
ship, and thus man and thus God yield up their
secrets. " The secret of the Lord is with them that
fear him."

Now, what is the intercourse between God and the
human soul which is so essential to certainty in spirit-
ual things ? What in religion, and in our relation to
God, stands in the place of personal communion be-
tween man and man ? Is it any thing but prayer
— the prayer of earnestness, of love, of faith ? Is
there any other duty in which God and man come to
mutual speech? in which they come to the intimate
embrace of a tender and loving friendship ? It -is
true that in reading the Scriptures God is some-
times said to speak to us, as in prayer we speak to
him. But if God does really speak to us in reading
the Scriptures it is only when they are read prayer-
fully; that is, God speaks to us through the Script-
ures only as we speak to him m prayer ; the word
rises up to life only in the inspiring atmosphere of
prayer. The dead letter never speaks, and the living

362 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINQ.

spirit only animates it and makes it vocal when we
commune with God over it ; then, illumined, radiant,
vitalized, it becomes God's part of the converse be-
tween the soul and him. And at such times the
words of Scripture are not simply what is written,
but they sprout and shoot out into astonishing ampli-
fication, and flower all over with simplifying, classi-
fying commentaries. Then, indeed, God speaks be-
cause we do ; he answers in and through and about
his word because we are in communion with him.

But how is it with the graces of the Spirit, and the
labors, sacrifices, and sufferings in which these graces
are brought into action ? Are they not modes of in-
tercourse with God ? and do they not contribute to
certainty in divine things ? Certainly they do. He
that feels patience under provocation, resignation in
affliction, faith in the midst of temptation, and the
supreme rule of divine love in his soul, will infer both
the reality of the spiritual world and that he is a child
of God. But he will feel that these are results of
prayer — of strength, of divine aid, that came to him in
the direct intercourse of prayer. As the physical
energy that comes from exercise or labor, however
great it may be, is dependent on the reception of food,
and without it exercise and labor are impossible, so
these graces are dependent on prayer, in which we re-
ceive our spiritual food. And while we trace all these
graces to prayer as the organ of their acquisition, we
must not forget that they form in us a character which
eminently fits us for communion with God, and adapts
us to receive divine assurance — the impressions of
divine certainty. But still prayer remains the organ
of spiritual certainty ; the point of contact with the

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRATER. 363

Divine Spirit ; the point at which spiritual supplies
pass over to us, at which we become conscious of the
divine voice, and feel that God is talking with us,
that his presence is with us, and at which we feel
assured that we exist in the midst of divine realities.
According to religion there are about us two systems
of life, the material and the spiritual ; the one visi-
ble, the other invisible, but no less real. The men
and the matter we see make the one, the angels
which we do not see, the other. Now, in prayer we
pass, as it were, out of one of these worlds into the
other; out of the visible into the invisible ; we pass
through a gate, one side of which is natural, the other
spiritual — one side of which tells us of the rust and
care of earth, the other reflecting the glory of heaven.
Once through that gate, God comes to meet us, and
we stand in the presence of his court of holy and
blessed spirits. Then, if we pray aright, faith lends
its realizing light.

I do not mean that this certainty of divine things
comes to us in prayer only when our minds are on it,
only when we are seeking it. We admit and thank-
fully claim that there is something in a life of prayer
that continually produces this. Prayer is a form of
spiritual activity ; but it is an activity with reference
to receptivity — it is an asking for something ; and a
life of prayer is, therefore, a life in which the- soul is
ever like the tinder prepared for the spark ; ever
standing at the mouth of the speaking-tube through
which the seventh heaven communicates its messages
to these lower stories, the very basements and cellars
of the divine temple of the universe. The spirit of
prayer, the life of prayer, is akin to sacred truth ; it

364 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

is the state of the spiritual soil in which it most
promptly receives and readily sprouts the divine
kernels ; it is the magnetism which especially attracts
spiritual influence ; it is the voice of his children
which God himself delights to answer, by which he
is touched as a mother by that of her babe. And as
this spirit of prayer grows, the great truths which
have taken root in it grow also. The very meaning
of a life of prayer is that the door is ever kept
open for the entrance of heavenly airs, of sacred
influences — the ground ever prepared, the seeds
and plants of truth ever tended — so that there
grows up such an intimacy between the soul and
divine truths, such a confirmed consciousness and as-
sured presence of the spiritual world, that the doubts
are quenched in the very radiance of the spiritual
state. "Then shall ye know, if ye follow on to know
the Lord."

How shall we prove what we have now said ? We
may refer to the Bible and the later Church history,
and instance men like Paul, and like Luther and
Wesley, with whom spiritual truth had become more
real and certain than their meat, and remind you that
the chief of them, Paul, exhorted men to pray with-
out ceasing, and that the other two obeyed his ex-
hortation. Nay, we may appeal to the experience of
Christians who hear us to-day. Do you not recall
many instances in your lives when, struggling with
doubts, you answered them by fair argument, one
after another ; but still the imagination led up others
in troops, so that if you rose on this ladder of argu-
ment from the earth toward heaven for a moment it
was only to fall back again weary, and confused, and

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRATER. 365

discomfited ? But when you remembered that there
was a better way to deal with a restless fancy than
to attack its images in detail — a way of blotting them
out wholesale — then your fluttering spirit, convert-
ing argument into prayer, ingenuity into importu-
nity, rose up into the clear region of assurance, and
looked down like an eagle upon the cloud-regions of
your recent doubts.

And may I not appeal still further to your Chris-
tian consciousness ? Do you not experience in your
prayers, when they are lowliest, a sort of sense of up-
ward motion ? Does not prayer become to you a
kind of mental or spiritual soaring, as though you
were leaving the world, passing the stars, cleaving
the space, and rising to the house not made with
hands ? as though you were borne up with the glances
of your prayerful thought? as though every sentence
were the sublime surge of a spirit-wing, or the rapid
turn of the crank of a spiritual locomotive, whose
track only angels and praying men see, and whose
whirl and roar only such hear ? Call it fancy, if you
will ; but we do ascend morally in prayer, and it is no
deception, no pretense, that we feel a sense of
rising.

O what a joy, what a luxury, what a glorious holi-
day hour, when our prayer not only checks the de-
ceitful imagination, and sweeps away its images of
falsehood like dashes of spray, but when the imagi-
nation itself is subsidized, converted, harnessed,
appropriated by prayer to spiritual uses, and when,
having mounted the spiritual railway — risen to para-
dise— this Christianized faculty quickly builds for us
the holy city, with the eternal throne in the center,

366 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

and lifts the vail from the Lamb in the midst thereof!
What a joy in prayer thus to realize all the splendor
and purity and blessedness of that place ! to hear
its music, see its faces, catch the breath of its flow-
ers, and feel that, though this be the work of the
imagination, it is the imagination rightfully employed,
in its mightiest efforts still incapable of carrying its
pictures beyond, or even up to, the realities which by
and by the soul shall come to inherit !

Yes, prayer is the path to certainty in divine things,
and the paltry would-be philosophers who think to
know God by mere metaphysics might just as reason-
ably expect a little child to know its mother by met-
aphysics. True, the child does not know what met-
aphysics means, and the philosopher, perhaps, does ;
but does he understand metaphysics which will square
the infinite circle? which will exhaust the inexhaust-
ible resources of ever-fertile imagination, and lift
the soul to a region of certainty, where the imagina-
tion can only play a part by becoming subservient ?
As the little child must become assured of maternal
love by truthful and affectionate intercourse, so must
the philosopher, in common with the peasant, become
assured of divine things rather by spiritual than by
intellectual means. Only let him cultivate a child's
truthfulness and confidence, and in due time he will
reach a child's certainty. " Except ye become as a
little child ye cannot enter into the kingdom of
heaven."

If you would know God, and the certainty of his
being, and the reality of his presence, and the verity
of eternal life, speak to God. Yes, brother, speak ;
his ear is every-where, and as susceptible to your

SPIRITUAL CERTAINTY THROUGH PRAYER. 367

cry as the ear of a mother to the cry of her first-
born. And when you have spoken earnestly and
persistently, he will answer plainly, and more and
more so daily, until, like Enoch, you shall walk with
him ; until, like Abraham, you shall be called his
friend ; until, like John, you shall lean your head
upon the Divine bosom, and in ecstasy listen to con-
fidential utterances of love and wisdom from the lips
of Him who spake as never man spake.

368 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINQ.

XVII.

CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE THE SHEET-ANCHOR
OF THE SOUL.

Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice
of his servant, that walkethin darkness, and hath no light? Let him
trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God. — Isa. 1, 10.

THE Jews, when addressed in these words, were
in captivity ; and, from the tenor of the chapter,
many of them in their calamities had lost their hold
upon God, and the foundations of religion had slid
from under their feet. Their adversity had made
them sad, and they argued from their grief that God
no longer regarded the chosen nation as his bride,
but that he had divorced her and sold her into cap-
tivity. Their shallow souls virtually said, If there be
a God, where is he now ? If religion and its promises
are true, why are we thus ?

In holy disgust the prophet turns away from these
down-cast complainers and seeks a better class. He
inquires with uplifted voice whether there are not
some who still stand, however sorrowfully, in the old
paths ; who, although God has overturned their lit-
tle kingdom, desolated their tiny spot of land, and
put the yoke of slavery for awhile on their neck, still

THE SOUL'S SHEET-ANCHOR. 369

fear his name and obey the voice of the prophets,
even while they walk in darkness and have no light.
To these serious, sad souls, under a dark sky, and
with gloomy and foreboding hearts, he gives the
counsel of our text. Let such a one, says the
prophet, trust in the name of the Lord, and stay
upon his God.

The lesson he would teach them is that religious
principle goes deeper than all circumstances, whether
of emotion or earthly fortune, of health, or sickness, or
external morals ; that religious principle, in its truest,
deepest sense, is joined to and rooted in God, the
Father of our spirits ; that religious principle, so ex-
plained, is the sheet-anchor of the soul, from which
other parts of religion derive their power, and to
which we must fall back when they fail us.

This, then, is our theme : Religious principle the
sheet-anchor of the soul.

There is a class of Christians whose chief religious
reliance is emotion. Indeed, they are apt to con-
found religion with emotion ; to mistake the one for
the other. When they were awakened they were
not content without floods of tears and storms of
sighs and groans. In their view, not rational convic-
tion, earnest hatred and forsaking of sin, but grief
alone, is repentance. The faith by which they en-
tered the kingdom was not a calm, rational trust in
the promises of the Gospel and the sacrifice of Christ,
but a strained effort, a holding of the breath, a wild
leaping to the joyful conclusion which in the glad-
ness of the change mistook the joy for the change.

Do you remember your conversion ? You can
never forget it. What, then, was it ? Was the erao-

24

3 7° THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

tion of joy, of transport, you then had conversion ?
Was not that joy rather the fruit of conversion, of
the new birth ? When the soldier boy comes home
from his long and dangerous campaign, and rushes,
capering, weeping, singing, and shouting, through
the house, what is this joy? Is it for itself? Is it
the main thing ? You might as well inquire which
is principal, the tree or its blossom, the fountain or
its rill, the sun or his little beam. The soldier's joy
is a rill, a blossom, a beam, whose source is the sim-
ple fact of getting home. He hardly knows he is
happy ; he only knows he has got back to the home
of his childhood. And so when a soul luxuriates in
the emotion of joy following the assurance of the new
birth, it is not a joy for its own sake ; it does not
prove that conversion consists merely or chiefly in
being made happy ; it is a joy which blossoms on a
tree which sin had killed, but which grace has now
made alive again ; it is a beam from the Sun of right-
eousness, just rising in the soul, before dark and
blind ; it is a bright rill from the Fountain of life, just
opening in the heart, before parched with drought.

Now, it is manifestly a great evil to rely on this
mere effervescence of the soul, as though it were the
never-failing test of personal religion. The new state
consists in something more substantial than the dis-
position to shout, namely, in loving God supremely,
in the hatred of sin, in benevolence toward men, in
the pursuit of holy affections ; and although these
imply, as a general thing, a happy state of mind, yet
they do not preclude trials, sadness, depression, even
the deepest gloom ; and if any one falls into the mis-
take of believing that there is no piety where there is

THE 8 OUV 8 SHEET-ANCHOR. 37 1

no joy his condition will be sad indeed. For such
persons, as well as for all, the dark days are coming —
the days of sickness ; and how hard it is to find our
joyous emotions and bring them into play amid the
pangs of rheumatism, the flames of fever, or in the
languor and wasting of consumption. At such a mo-
ment we need to fall back on something more than
emotion, on a principle. The same holds of all the
trials of life, of persecution, bereavement, pecuniary
loss. If we look to find the chief evidence of our
religion in the sphere of emotion, the clouds of mere
circumstance may darken our sky and leave us com-
fortless, or worse.

But, besides this, the emotions always weaken with
the advance of life ; and if they are chiefly regarded,
religion, instead of waxing, must wane with the prog-
ress of age. The stock of personal religion ought to
increase day by day, the soul growing stronger as the
body grows weaker, the eye brighter as the emotions
abate their bubbling, the passions more and more al-
layed, and the position steadier and steadier on the
great and eternal foundations. But if emotion is the
great reliance — if it comes to be the only, or great
sign of religion — it depends so much on the health
and strength of the body, on the vivacity of the ani-
mal spirits, that old age must give less instead of more
religion, less instead of greater confidence and hope.

This, perhaps, will account for the manifest abate-
ment of the zeal of many persons as they advance
in life. While their blood abounded with the ele-
ments of excitement, while music easily woke them
up, while a red-hot exhortation electrified them,
while a warm revival meeting kindled 'their feelings,

372 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

they wrought zealously in the Church ; but, knowing-
no source of inspiration except the furnace of emo-
tion, and that wearing out or choking up with age,
their zeal has cooled and flattened with their emo-
tions. They lose confidence in themselves, and per-
haps in religion. They need religious principle to
fall back on.

The reliance on emotion, it is to be feared, some-
times becomes so complete that emotion is considered
identical with religion, and religion in the soul is sup-
posed to consist wholly in emotion. This is a kind
of Methodist Antinomianism. This sort of religion
calls all quietness coldness, all modesty shrinking
from the cross.

But the worst aspect of making religion to consist
wholly in joyous emotions is that it thus becomes
separated from morals. Nobody will dare to say that
a religious man may be as wicked as he pleases. On
the contrary, religion and morals are always supposed
to move together. But if joyous feeling should come
to stand with us for the whole of religion, not only
shall we feel that we have no religion when we are
not happy, but, even worse still, when temptations to
sin come we shall be surrounded by no bulwarks
against them. If there is nothing in religion but
feeling, why not commit sin ? What matters it that
public opinion puts honesty and other virtues in con-
nection with a religious profession ? If feeling is the
whole of religion the connection is arbitrary. Why
am I bound to respect public opinion, especially if I
can circumvent it ?

Now, as the emotions are not religion, but in their
very best form are only occasional products of it ; as

THE SOUL'S SHEET-ANCHOR. 373

we cannot fall back on them in time of trial ; and as
times of grief, trial, temptation, come to all Chris-
tians, how essential it is that there be some principle
from which we cannot be driven — into which we may
run, as into a fortress, and feel that we are safe!
Where do we find that hiding-place ? What is it ?

But, mark, we are not by any means disparaging
religious emotion, nor, indeed, any other feeling that
is good and proper. Be happy, but trace happiness
to its source ; and then, when trouble of any sort
comes, in the saddest and darkest hour there will be
a resting-place left ; religion will still remain unhurt
and unmarred, both as to beauty and power — the
same, in itself and for you, that it was before.

But to the question, What is religious principle ?
we answer : In the most general sense we mean by
religious principle our religion itself, as we have it in
the Bible : its history, so full of examples ; its doc-
trines, constituting the granite foundation on which
rest the reason and the faith of the soul, and the
moral precepts. When we become Christians we
accept these, and incorporate them into ourselves.
To have these made part of ourselves is to become
Christians ; and to abide by these, whether in joy or
sorrow, is to remain Christians. If we would not be
children, tossed about with every wind "of doctrine,
we must dwell here, precisely here. To be making
mere emotional enjoyment the aim of life instead of
conforming ourselves to the divine word, is to put the
cart before the horse.

If a man suffers himself to be caught and carried
away by any new teaching that comes along, and that
happens to hit and tickle his ear or fancy, instead of

374 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

going solemnly to the word of God studiously to test
and examine it, he is deserting Christian principle.
If a person allows himself to be drawn into doubtful
— however fashionable — ways or pleasures, at war
with the spirit of Christ and with the example of the
apostles, he is ignoring Christian principle. If a pro-
fessing Christian allows gain to get between him
and the moral law, and make him dally for one mo-
ment with dishonesty, he is in a fair way to desert
Christian principle.

We may, however, characterize religious principle
as a settled purpose to do right, the Scriptures being
our standard of right. What is conversion but the
adoption of such a purpose, and having it divinely
inwrought into the soul ? If we are genuinely changed
in heart, this is precisely the purport of the change.
The law has been incorporated, inwoven, inwrought,
burned into our nature. We abjure deceit and lying ;
we wash our hands of dishonesty ; we reject unchaste
actions and thoughts and persons ; we cordially re-
nounce covetousness and the whole catalogue of
crime, high and low, fashionable and unfashionable,
inside and out. And this being the case, when a
season of trial or perplexity comes — when, if need be,
we are in heaviness through manifold temptations —
duty is still 'clear and before us as an essential part
of religion. If we can not and do not feel as we would,
we still know what to do. The path is plain, and we
must keep in it until the day dawn and the Day-star
arise in our hearts.

This strong sense of duty, this unfaltering purpose
to do right, and this continual consciousness of ear-
nestly trying to do it, is a most sublime and glorious

THE SOVTS SHEET-ANCHOR, 375

thing. It is a joy in itself. In this sense virtue is
indeed its own reward. And then what a guide it
is ! what a clearer up of difficulties ! what an untier
of knots ! When life seems to become tangled —
when our path seems hedged up, and there appears
to be no way out but through some sinful by-way —
only let the purpose to do right be firmly implanted
in us, and let it bid us stand still and see the glory
of God ; only let us obey its behest and keep on doing
right, and it will prove the thread guiding us out of
the labyrinth ; a blessed forerunner cutting down the
mountain before us ; the rod of God in Moses' hand
parting the Red Sea, delivering us, and submerging
our doubts and fears — the mighty Egyptian hosts
that threatened us with their wrath if we dared to do
right.

Without this purpose accepted as an essential part
of religion, when our joys are darkened, and tempta-
tion comes in like a flood, what shall we do ? We
must fall by the hands of the enemy.

But we are not sure that this is all that is demanded
for our safety in the time of trial. Duty is a noble
idea ; right is sublime ; law is authoritative. On the
one side is cursing and remorse ; on the other bless-
ing and a good conscience. But if law or duty or
right come to be regarded as abstractions, they will
prove too weak for the more powerful class of tempta-
tions. Another part of that Christian principle upon
which we are to fall back still remains to be men-
tioned. Who has given law ? Who, with infallible
authority, has declared right and enjoined duty ?
Who but a divine person, our Father in heaven ?
To feel the power of duty, the obligation of right,

376 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

we must hear him pronounce it. All duty, all law,
all power to reward and punish, must be referable to
him ; all must be summed up in him, and the short
method, and powerful as short, is to go to him. Then
it is no longer merely duty or law or right that, from
lips of sages or from tables of stone, issues its man-
dates, but the infinite and living Ruler of heaven and
earth.

Look at your little children. By what means has
right or law power over them ? Is it that they are
beautiful? No, right and law borrow their power
from the parents ; duty goes into the heart of the
child with the father's and mother's smile — with their
voices, their words, their love. The personality, the
loving life of the parents, carries the child's duty to
its young heart, and constitutes the power of house-
hold authority.

We, in dealing with the divine, are but children,
if not less than they. In the hour of trial, when the
heart seems no longer to feel — when emotion sinks
down to polar coldness — the mere commandments
are in danger of losing their power over us. Our
dull nature is ready to ask, How can an abstraction
help or harm us ? Law and duty alone are likely to
grow shadowy in conflict with tempting ingots — with
lust, fashion, ambition, and even with vanity. Then,
as a part of religious principle, we must look to the
Father, and array duty in his thunder or in his smile.
He must have been already enthroned in the con-
science, the reason, and the affections. The thought
of him, almighty and yet gentle, infinite yet conde-
scending, speaking worlds into being and yet talking
with poor, sinful men — the thought of him as enter-

THE SOUL'S SHEET-ANCHOR. ^77

ing into covenant, as fixing his tabernacle, with men ;
the thought of, the firm belief in, him as a holy, just,
infinite person, threatening to punish in unspeakable
woe, and promising to bless and reward with ineffable
love and tenderness — the thought and assurance of
him, if any thing, will save.

Thus it has been with the saints of the olden time.
Hear Job in his darkness. When joy had departed
with his fortune and with the lives of his children ;
when he execrated the day he was born ; when he rose
up from scraping himself with a potsherd — a wealthy
and renowned prince, reduced to a beggar — see how
he hides himself as in the bosom of God : "Though
he slay me, yet will I trust in him. . . . Till I die
I will not remove mine integrity from me. My right-
eousness I hold fast, and will not let it go : my heart
shall not reproach me so long as I live." What
cleaving, in darkness, poverty, sickness, and contempt,
to his own inner sense of rectitude ! and yet not to
this alone, but to God also, and chiefly. Though
slain by his heavenly Father, he would not still dis-
trust. If he had received good at the hands of God,
should he not also receive evil ? In troubles like
those rained on him what would Job have done with
the mere sense of honest purpose, precious as this
was, and without a divine and almighty Father to
appeal to for the vindication of his integrity ? To
him joy was gone, earth was gone, children gone,
friends almost gone, every thing external gone; only
God remained to strengthen his righteous aims and
keep the soul from sinking. Job was a man, not of mere
impulse, but of religious principle, and when all else
was gone he could not be dislodged from that citadel.

3/8 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

We repeat again, Christians ought to be happy,
only we must call things by their right names, and
assign them their proper places. Excited feeling is
not the only happiness ; and even the truest happi-
ness itself is not the great aim of religion. There is
a quiet happiness of resting content on the deep and
broad foundations of religion, but the great aim of re-
ligion is holiness. Holiness is a right state of the
heart, with an energetic life of goodness. A Christian
who makes happiness his chief aim is like a farmer
taken up with the flowers in the fence corners of
his fields while he neglects to plow his grounds.
Flowers are fine things, but make poor bread ; wheat
is the great staple of the farm. The bubbles that
glitter and dance and break on the surface of the
fountain are pretty, but the living waters are the main
thing. And so happiness is a good thing ; but the
well-spring of holiness in the heart, and the harvests
of obedient and benevolent living, from which the
truest joy proceeds, are far better. Holiness must
be diligently sought after ; we must" work with all
our power to glorify God and bless men, and the hap-
piness will take all the better care of itself for not
being thought absent.

True, we find happiness frequently alluded to in the
Scriptures, but ever as the fruit of a care for some-
thing else than itself. What a luxury of pleasure is
expressed in the words of St. Peter : " Whom having
not seen ye love ; in whom, though now ye see him
not, yet believing, ye rejoice, with joy unspeakable
and full of glory." But this unspeakable joy is not
an independent essence, a something standing on a
foundation of its own ; it is a product of faith and love

THE SOUL'S SHEET- AN CHOH. 379

toward Jesus. We are therefore to seek Jesus, not
happiness. But Jesus found, so is happiness.

But is it not said, " Rejoice evermore ? " Yes, cer-
tainly, and our aim is to lead you to that very point.
He that relies chiefly on emotion, when that fails
him is well-nigh stranded. He must wait until it
returns. But the Christian who regards emotion as
subordinate ; who builds on Scripture ; whose great
aim is to frame his heart and mold his character
after Christ, in seasons of great emotion will not be
over exalted, and even when he is depressed and tried
will find a compensation for lost joy — nay, a real sober
joy itself — in resting on .the principle to which he has
tied his soul fast forever.

Thus, when every thing smiles about him — when
health is fiim and animal spirits run high — his pleas-
ure will be toned down by discretion ; and when gloom
and temptation come, he will stand firm on his prin-
ciple, and not sink. Like Paul, he will rejoice in
tribulation also ; like the prophet, he will find a har-
vest in drought and famine, and exclaim, "Although
the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in
the vines ; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the
fields shall yield no meat ; the flock shall be cut off'
from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls ;
yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God
of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength."

Finally, therefore, in times of sadness, of doubt, of
failing physical strength, of fierce temptation, let us
not forget that the essence of religion is holiness ;
that Scripture history, Scripture doctrine, and the di-
vine law, are the elemental forces included in genuine
holiness ; that God the Father, and Jesus, the bright-

380 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

ness of his glory, give to these forces, to religious
principle, their vitality ; and when from any cause our
joy forsakes us, let us turn to what is better than joy,
namely, its source — to the principles to which our pro-
fession of religion has committed us.

If we find we have these principles firmly rooted
in us and still abiding — if our souls cleave to them in
unshaken devotion, and our integrity remains unsul-
lied— this is religion ; and, with Paul, we may say,
" Our rejoicing is this, the testimony of our conscience,
that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly
wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our
conversation in the world." With this view of relig-
ion we need never fall into despair ; we may always
be speedily delivered from doubt ; the jeweled robe
of ecstasy in which religion sometimes decks itself,
will no longer be taken for religion itself, and it will
be understood that, although the King's daughter
may sometimes appear in sad attire, yet she is still
always all glorious within.

Who is there among you, my brethren, that feareth
the Lord, and obeyeth the voice of his servants, the
prophets and apostles, and of Jesus, his Son, that nev-
ertheless walketh much in darkness and hath little
or no light ? let him trust in the name of the Lord, and
stay him upon his God. Let him come forth out of the
clouds ; let him recover his tone ; let him be happy
again, very happy, not by listening for the breeze in
the tops of the mulberry trees, but by burrowing
down, by thoughtful prayer, among their roots. Let
him remember that the song comes from the bird,
not the bird from the song ; that the thunder comes
from the lightning, not the lightning from the thun-

THE SOUL'S SHEET-ANCHOIi. 38 1

der ; that religious principle yields all genuine Chris-
tian emotion, and that emotion may have no better
source than an excited human fancy. Trust in the
name of the Lord — in the eternal foundations, not in
a mere ornament of one of the pinnacles of the temple.
Stay upon your God ; rest there, dwell there, and
do not follow a Jack-o'-lantern, that fades at daylight,
leaving its pursuer in the marsh. Then, bound to
Christian principle, abiding in God, and seeking noth-
ing besides, your varying and changeful emotions
shall give place to a steady stream of blessedness,
rolling, widening, deepening, until, having passed the
region of cloud and smoke, it shall expand and glide
into the sea of infinite joy.

382 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

XYIII.

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE.*

He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that
we may boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what
man shall do unto me. — Heb. xiii, 5, 6.

WHEN the bell had ceased to toll for Emory,
but while its echo still lingered about the sad-
dened heart, it was struck again with the same meas-
ured stroke for the subject of this discourse. The
chapel of the institution in which they were both
instructors had but just been hung in mourning, when
we were called on to consecrate the sable drapery
afresh to the memory of the last departed. The
heart of an orator had just wept out the funeral praise
of one of these devoted colleagues, when a humble
pastor was called on to pay similar honors to the other.
But these things, which are well befitting us, are now
of no importance to them. It is for us to deal in
signs ; theirs is the glorious significancy. It is for us
to grieve over our losses, but for them to count over
the gains of dying and the treasures of immortality.
It is our sad lot to have been separated from them ;
theirs to have met, and to have formed an indis-
soluble union. The moral heroes sleep in graves

* Preached at Carlisle, Pa., July 9, 1848, on the occasion of the
death of Professor Merritt Caldwell, A.M., of Dickinson College.

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 3S3

far apart, but their souls live in the same Paradise,
and sit in the presence of the same glory.

It is our task to-day, however, to trace the char-
acter and earthly journeyings of but one of these dis-
tinguished men, Professor Merritt Caldwell. In
regard to his early history, Dr. Clark, his brother-in-
law, of Portland, Maine, writes to Professor Allen as
follows : " Professor Caldwel, lwas the third son of
William and Nancy Caldwell, of Oxford, Oxford
County, State of Maine. He was born November
29, 1806. His parents and grandparents were pious
people, and worthy and exemplary members of
the Methodist Episcopal Church. Their house was
a home of the early itinerants of Methodism in New
England. His father and mother still live, a com-
fort and a blessing to their children, and highly
respected by the community among whom they
dwell. His father is considered a man of great sin-
cerity and uprightness, with much of the Puritan
stamp. His mother, who is a mother indeed, is a
woman of uncommon intellectual powers, and deeply
versed in scriptural and religious knowledge. This
excellent woman made a strong impression of the
truth and loveliness of the Christian religion upon
the minds of her children. As a result of her faith-
fulness, mainly, each of their four children was early
the subject of powerful religious impressions. Mer-
ritt was always serious and thoughtful from early
youth. To religious and sacred themes his heart
was peculiarly susceptible. A mention of these great
subjects, or a reference to them, quickly excited his
attention. At the age of seventeen, while a student
at home, under the instruction of an elder brother,

384 THE NEW LIFE DA WN1NG.

Rev. Zenas Caldwell, when there was no special
religious interest in the community, he came into the
liberty of the children of God." Dr. Clark then goes
on to state that he finished his education at Bowdoin
College — was appointed Principal of the Maine Wes-
leyan Seminary — and was finally called to the chair
of Political Economy and Metaphysics in Dickinson
College, in which position he lived and died.

If our departed brother had been a man of the
world, different feelings from those we cherish might
have been appropriate. We might then have indulged
the grief of reason as we now do the grief of nature.
But he was a Christian — noiseless and unobtrusive,
but steadfast and immovable ; eagerly solicitous to
know what duty was, but utterly fearless about the
consequences of its performance. If he had been a
man of the world, instead of the strong words of cer-
tainty and of God with which we shah this day seek
to comfort the bereaved, we might have labored to call
off their memory from the dead, and to fix the soul
simply upon its own improvement. But he was a
Christian, whose life was the ornament, the stay, and
the example of theirs. If he had been a man of the
world, although in another place and on another occa-
sion we might have found in him much to admire,
and might have said much in his praise, yet in this
sacred place, and in these solemn circumstances,
silence must have sealed our lips. But he was a
Christian ; and this sacred place, and these solemn
circumstances, invite the mention of his name and
the exhibition of his virtues.

He was, however, not merely a Christian. He
was a Christian of a particular stamp — one in whom

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 385

a certain class of virtues was cultivated to the last
degree — not so as to destroy the others, but yet in
some degree to shade them. The sun does not
destroy the stars, he only outshines them. So with
Professor Caldwell's firmness and Christian courage,
and their stern associate virtues ; they did not destroy
the milder graces of his religion, but they called off
attention from them. As the massive pillars which
supported the moral edifice, they stood out in bold
relief — the first to catch the eye of the observer, and
from which it was difficult to call off his thoughts
that he might fix them upon the more delicate, but
hardly less important, parts of the structure. It is
upon this class of Christian virtues, constituting the
substance of whatever was marked in the outward
life of Professor Caldwell, that we wish to fix atten-
tion. They are fully covered by the clause of the
text, " I will not fear what men shall do unto me."
Our plan will be, with a general reference to the
text,

First, To state these prominent features of the
character of our departed friend, and,

Secondly, To account for them.-

1. The prominent traits of his character. The mas-
ter trait of his character was moral courage. This is
a virtue of prime importance, especially to one occu-
pying his position. Professor Caldwell was a stranger
to the fear of man. In forming and expressing an
opinion, or performing a duty, whether it would be
agreeable to the views of the majority or of those in
high places, was never a question with him. When
he had discovered what he believed to be right, his

course was fixed : there was no policy that could

25

386 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

recast the opinion, no voice of popular applause that
could seduce the firm resolve, no sympathy that could
cause him to relent, no friendship that could win him
to a different course. It was right, and it must be
done. If the whole world was on one side and him-
sef alone on the other, he could not help it. He
could only feel, and in substance say, with Luther,
" Here I stand, I can no other." If this had pro-
ceeded from passion, or stubbornness, it might sti 1
have been courage, but not the courage of a Christian.
But so far was this from being the case that these
feelings never seemed to mingle in the least degree
with the exhibitions of his courage. It was a firm
and grave adherence to Christian principle, wherever
it might lead him. He seemed to think that the
responsibility belonged to the truth, not to him ; and
that if there was to be any excitement about it, the
truth must feel it, and not he. After the most care-
ful conversation with those who have known him, and
been intimately, associated with him for a number of
years, I have not been able to find that he was ever
unduly excited, or even at all, except slightly, when he
considered some great principle in danger of being
sacrificed. And while this moderation gave a char-
acter of soundness to his courage, it became an ex-
ample of it. It was an illustration of that apothegm
of inspiration, " He that ruleth his own spirit is
greater than he that taketh a city." For it is not to
be supposed that he was by nature destitute of
temper ; on the contrary, some, who have had the
best opportunity of knowing, think him to have been
a man of naturally quick temper, and that the equa-
nimity which he so constantly displayed was the result

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 387

of internal battling and severe self-discipline. Here,
then, was true heroism — a determined and forcible
entrance into one's own heart, for the purpose of
detecting and binding every unholy passion, and
consuming every idol ; for the purpose of subjecting
the flesh to the reason, and the reason to Christ.

But Professor Caldwell was an active philanthro-
pist, particularly in the great field of temperance.
And here he found, as such a man would have done
anywhere, exercise for his Christian courage. He
not only showed his hearty good-will for the cause,
by sacrificing for it time, ease, and health — riding
out into the country at night after his college duties
were done, and delivering temperance lectures, and
returning home the same night — but he also showed
the boldness of his character by the manner in which
these labors were performed. He tried to raise the
poor drunkard with one hand, while the other was
lifted up, with steady nerve, to rebuke the man who,
while he claimed the respect of the community, sat
among the glittering decanters and received the
wages of iniquity. The popularity of any new phase
of the reformation, even though it might be univer-
sal, never moved him from his firm attachment to the
old landmarks. When the Washingtonian movement
swept over the country, proclaiming non-interference
with the license system, and several other new no-
tions, the friends of the cause in this place yielded
the old principle, almost to a man, and he was left
to stand literally alone. The hurricane of popularity,
however, which accompanied that movement, left
him just where it found him, and in a year or two
they were all seen retracing their steps, and taking

3 55 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

their places again alongside of their old leader, on the
platform which they had left. His moral courage
was seen in the boldness with which he rebuked even
legislators and judges, for the sake of temperance.
If the one advocated a law, or the other gave a de-
cision, injuriously affecting the interests of the cause,
if his influence could reach them they were sure to
hear it again, and to have it pressed upon their at-
tention in such a manner as to make the subject very
disagreeable. And as he never espoused a bad cause,
so when he had once devoted himself to a good one
he never deserted it. Hence he continued a zealous
supporter of temperance to the end of his life. From
all this it must be obvious, that although Professor
Caldwell was a man of great moral courage, yet his
courage was not rash and destitute of caution. If,
in his battles for truth, he fought bravely in defense,
it was from behind a breastwork of principle, which
it had cost him the labor of a life-time to throw up.
If he sometimes became the assailant, and led the at-
tack against the enemies of humanity, it was after he
had taken the precaution to cover himself with the
mail of truth and a good conscience. He was emi-
nently a cautious man. But his was not a caution
that wasted itself in driveling doubts, nor a courage
that boiled away to vapor over the fierce fires of pas-
sion ; but a caution that strengthened courage by
steadying it, and a courage that made caution practical
and useful by firing and rousing it. His caution
was the guiding reason, his courage the strong and
deciding will.

But still some might suppose that if he had been
exposed' to great physical danger his courage might

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 389

have failed him. Such a notion proceeds upon the
supposition that mere physical courage is superior to
moral ; that the warrior in the battle-field and the
duelist in the secluded grove are superior in courage
to the Christian hero. Those who thus contend for-
get that the fountain cannot send the strea.ru above
its own level. They forget the difference between
the motives to physical and those to moral courage.
In the one case they are revenge, plunder, and power,
all limited by the present life, and not daring even
to look beyond it. In the other they are the favor of
God and eternal life, neither of which death can for
a single moment interrupt. When the warrior has
rolled his garments in the blood of his conquered
enemies, when he has called their lands after his own
name, and gathered their gold into his coffers, how
often does it happen that a single lust conquers his
intelligence, and a single appetite swallows up even
life itself! But when the Christian soldier has con-
quered himself, and has had the courage promptly to
meet every religious duty, he has rendered himself
invincible, not only to moral, but even to physical
danger. It may devour him, but he knows it cannot
destroy him, and his heart refuses to take counsel of
his fears. Thus it was once in the life-time of Profess-
or Caldwell. He had, as you all know, embarked
at Boston for Europe. Near Halifax, the ship, in the
midst of a dense fog, ran upon a rock, and fastened
there. And while she rolled and beat upon the rock,
threatening her own dismemberment and the destruc-
tion of all on board, and while nearly all were in the ut-
most consternation, Professor Caldwell went below,
and after eating his dinner, and filling his pockets

390 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

with bread, came on deck again prepared to take to
the boats if it should become necessary. All this
time he acted with the same coolness, and the same
apparent consciousness of safety, as if he had been
in his own lecture-room.

In connection with his Christian courage may be
noticed another trait of character lor which he was
most remarkable, namely, punctuality. To the value
of this let those bear witness whose reputations and
fortunes have been ruined by its neglect. Punctu-
ality springs from respect for truth in our engage-
ments, and consists in the strict performance of those
engagements in regard to time, manner, and matter.
Where this is wanting, whether in family, Church, or
college, disorder must prevail. Where it is found, it
is both a means of advancement and an indication of
progress. Professor Caldwell possessed this practical
virtue in a high degree. He kept his engagements,
all his engagements, whether more or less important
— his engagements to meet, his engagements to pay,
his engagements to do. With him, any promise worth
making was worth keeping ; any meeting worth ap-
pointing was worth attending ; any hour sufficiently
appropriate to be fixed upon was sufficiently' impor-
tant to be remembered. With him a pecuniary obli-
gation was a law, and the smallest circumstance of it
was binding. As he used but few words in buying
what he needed, so those from whom he bought might
use still fewer in collecting what he owed. In short,
he was always in his place, always at his post, always
up to his engagements.

We may also notice his promptness in matters of
more than ordinary difficulty and perplexity in the

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 391

government of the college. At such times he always
went for the right, without the slightest sign of fear
or timidity. The reason of this was, that he con-
sulted, not expediency, but the principles which from
the beginning had been his guide. Expediency is a
varying rule, directing us by turns to every point of
the compass. And although there is such a thing
as a just and righteous expediency, yet it ceases to
be such as soon as it ceases to be fashioned and
guided by principle. Now, from the operation of
passion and sympathy, most minds are in danger of
bending the principle along the crooked track of ex-
pediency, instead of straightening the expediency by
the principle ; or, which amounts to the same thing,
they are in danger of forgetting the principle, and
trusting to expediency. The mind is then at once
driven out to sea ; the coast-marks and light-houses
disappear ; indeed, the compass is gone ; and amid
the conflicting claims of the different plans, recom-
mended by different degrees of expediency, the mind
becomes dizzy, and can scarcely decide at all. But
when true principle — we mean that of religion — is
enthroned in the reason and established in the heart,
and when expediency stands at a respectful distance
only waiting to do its bidding — when the principle
is the sun, and expediency only the clock, which, to
be of any use, must be regulated by him — how rapid
then is the process ! how prompt the decision ! how
calm, how forcible, the sentence ! Thus it was with
Professor Caldwell. He looked to his principles, he
applied them to the case in hand, and in a moment
all knew his opinion ; and although it might be the
fate of that opinion to be disapproved at the time, it

392 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

was very apt in the end to be looked upon as the
true one.

But we must not omit to mention that evenness
of his whole course of life which made so distinct an
impression upon all who knew him long, and which
might have been inferred almost with certainty by a
stranger at first sight. We have already spoken of
the evenness of his temper, but this no more gives
the idea we intend than a single tree gives us the idea
of an extensive landscape, or a feeble rill that of a
magnificent river which it aids in swelling. It was an
evenness of temper, of words, of actions, and, doubt-
less, of thoughts ; an evenness of all these, not on
some great occasion merely, but on all occasions ;
not for a single day, or month, or year, but for the
whole life. This was the ground on which the pict-
ure of his life was drawn ; the clear atmosphere which
surrounded its points and filled its interstices ; the
steady light in which his actions were bodied forth.
It was the even surface, not of a shallow policy, but
of a deep principle. The smooth waters appeared
still because they were deep. Every particular mani-
festation of his life was part of a habit, and every
habit was woven into a character possessing the most
remarkable unity ; the texture was close, the color was
modest, and the finish not brilliant, but becoming.

These traits of character, so strikingly developed
in Professor Caldwell, eminently fitted him to be
placed among the guardians of a college under relig-
ious patronage and control, and will cause his death
to be severely felt — by the Church, to whom he stood
in the relation of a moral and intellectual almoner ;
by his colleagues, who always loved and honored him,

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 393

and frequently leaned upon his safe and resolute
counsels ; by the students, to whom he was a guide,
sometimes severe, but always faithful ; and by this
congregation, to whom he was a brother beloved, a
faithful steward and trustee, and a fellow-communicant
at the same holy altar.

Having given the character of Professor Caldwell,
as it appeared to all who knew him, we now come

I. To account for it. And does it not need to
be accounted for ? Is there not an air of mystery
about its quiet energy ? and especially when you con-
sider that he never seemed to have any religious feel-
ing, never spoke of it, never showed it ? The common
interpretation of his character was that he had a
great deal of religious principle. We have already
shown this to be true ; but in this connection it is
very indefinite. If it has any definite meaning, it
must be a firm adherence to religious principle, that
is, to the doctrines and precepts of religion. But
this, instead of accounting for such a life and charac-
ter as we have been describing, is the very thing in
which they consist. For what are courage in defend-
ing the truth, punctuality in respect to every circum-
stance of the truth, and promptness in deciding for
the truth, but so many forms in which steadfast
adherence to religious principle is expressed ? This,
then, would be making a thing to account for itself.
We think that the true explanation of Professor Cald-
well's life and character is to be found in the circum-
stances of his death, and is especially couched in the
declaration which he made a few days before he left
the world : " I have lived too exclusively by faith."
And this establishes the very connection which we

394 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

see in the text — the connection between faith in God
and a bold and steadfast soul : " He hath said, I will
never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may
boldly say, The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear
what man shall do unto me." Paul believed in God ;
in the magnitude and eternal importance of religion ;
in the promises, and trusted that he was embraced in
them ; and this put fear to flight. Thus it was with
our departed brother. He had faith in God and was
not afraid. He threw himself, without timidity or
reserve, upon those principles which he felt assured
were from God, and was determined to follow them
through fire and flood. This was the secret of his
being — the internal fountain from whose basin of
rock rose the strong, but quiet, current of his life.
This, too, is the bridge over which we must pass from
the stern virtues of his life to the triumphs of his
death ; the link which holds the two together in har-
monious, but strongly antithetical, union ; the stand-
point from which we must view them in order to un-
derstand them both.

Faith embraces two . different, and yet obviously
kindred, mental processes. The first in order, and
we will mention it first, is conviction, which in the
beginning makes its way against doubts and objec-
tions, until it reaches the settled persuasion of the
general truth of religion. It then goes forward until
it takes in each of the more prominent truths of
religion separately, and receives the distinct impres-
sions which they are calculated to make. These
impressions are not immediately friendly either to
peace or courage ; indeed, for the time they make
both impossible. The doctrine of depravity makes

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 395

an impression of uneasiness, mortification, and shame.
The holiness of the divine law, as the representative
of the purity of God, impresses the soul with the utter
impossibility, in its present state, of union with the
only Source of happiness. The doctrine of future
punishment fills it with terrible forebodings of the
second death ; and the atonement of Christ, instead
of giving it comfort, only sheds a more awful efful-
gence upon the divine purity and its own sinfulness.
This decree of faith, then, in which the soul stands
firmly persuaded of the certainty of the great truths
of religion, and has nothing more, instead of making
the soul strong and courageous, only robs it of its
'self- reliance, without giving it any thing else upon
which to rely. To such a soul the attributes of God
are not those of a friend pledged to protect him, but
those of an enemy, threatening and able to destroy
him. Even natural courage gives way ; and the
soul, made cowardly by its consciousness of guilt,
trembles before its own shadow, or starts at the sound
of a falling leaf. Yet this state of mind, all dark and
alarming as it may be, is the stepping-stone to that
higher faith which stopped the mouths of lions and
quenched the violence of fire. It is the dark vestibule
through which we pass into a temple of ineffable
brightness.

The other intellectual process, which we said was
embraced in faith, may be called appropriation, be-
cause by it we appropriate to ourselves the promises
of God and the atonement of Christ ; and, by the aid
of the Holy Spirit, take the love of God for our sol-
ace, the wisdom of God for our guide, and the power
of God for our protection. We have now been ad-

396 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

mitted into the fortress ; and though it and its great
Captain are the same, yet our relation to them is
changed — the strength of the fortress is no longer di-
rected against us, but is employed for our defense,
pointing away from us in every direction against our
enemies. Or, to speak without a figure, this faith
assures us of the friendship of God ; gives us to know
that he dwells within us; and that, while we continue
faithful, he will never leave nor forsake us. Here,
then, is room for confidence, for firmness the most
unwavering, and bravery the most undaunted. If
physical courage is firm and steady in proportion to
the soldier's confidence in the general's skill and
in his own strength and dexterity, who shall estimate
that courage which is proportioned to legitimate con-
fidence in the eternal power and Godhead of Christ ?
Behold, my brethren, the patience of the saints — the
secret life-power of the martyrs — by which, while
their bodies consumed away at the stake, their souls
were hid with Christ in God ! Behold the Rock
on which Christian heroism has rested, in suffering
and in acting, in every age of the history of the
Church ! This is the same faith by which our de-
parted brother said he "had lived too exclusively?
But how could he say he had lived too exclusively
•by faith, when faith is the root and spring of every
other grace, without which it is impossible to please
God ? We suppose he meant that he had been in
error in being satisfied with merely the solid peace
resulting from faith, and not seeking the raptures of
religious enjoyment ; in contenting himself with
working out an expression of his faith, and not seek-
ing more earnestly a deeper, fuller baptism of divine

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 397

love. And no doubt this was a defect of his relig-
ious experience ; but, as he had lived by faith, it was
easily supplied. He had only to ask, and recei/e,
that his joy might be full. Faith wrought by love,
and filled his soul with rapture. This love and this
rapture were not the fruits of a new faith, but of in-
creased ardor and power in the exercise of the old.
It was the old fire blazing up with a broader, brighter
flame as it came nearer to its original Source. It
was the adaptation of his strength to his day.

We shall now call upon you to look upon this love
and this rapture as they found expression in his
own beautiful, and, strange to say, sometimes highly
poetical, words.

In a letter to his daughter, dated April 1 1, after ex-
horting her to constancy in prayer, he says, " I have
had great peace of mind in my affliction, and am
proving that religion can sustain one under the most
afflictive circumstances."

In another, to the same, of May 13, he writes:
" If you could see me now, you would see me much
more feeble than when you kissed me at the cars.
You would, also, see me arranging my business
with reference to leaving it whenever God shall see
fit to call me, with as much deliberation as I prepared
myself to leave for Europe, or for Portland a few
weeks ago." After telling her that they have de-
cided that it will be better for her not to come on
to Portland, he says : " Think of me as when I left
Carlisle, and if you should hear of my death, think
of me not as having ceased to exist, but as living a
better life in a better world. Death, properly under-
stood, is not to be dreaded by those who are prepared

398 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

for it. And as to you, God will take care of you and
the other children. This affliction may do more for
you than my life could have done, however long pro-
tracted." May 29 he wrote the last letter she re-
ceived from him. In that he says : " I feel that I am
gradually approaching my house not made with hands,
and feel that it will be glorious to exchange earth for
heaven. I have committed all my family to God, and
he will do his part in the care of them — of you, my
dear daughter, only do your part to take care of
yourself."

From notes taken by Rev. S. M. Vail, from the
lips of persons who were with Professor Caldwell
during the last few days of his life, I have made the
following extracts :

"May 30. — The day of the month being men-
tioned, he said, ' I may live to see the summer — to see
the earth spread with green and clothed with beauty —
but I wonder when I shall again see decay ? I reckon
there is no decay in heaven. If there are green
leaves there, they never fall — there shall be no death
there.'

"May 31. — He said, 'I have strength equal to
my day in every circumstance ; my peace is like a
river.' This he repeated often. Looking at his
swollen feet, he remarked, 'This looks pleasant; it
is as strange to me as it is to you, yet I like to look
at it.' Addressing Mrs. Caldwell, he said, ' Surely
you will not lie down on your bed and weep when I
am gone ; you will not mourn for me, when God has
been so good to me all along, and will, I trust, sus-
tain me to the end. And when you visit the spot
where I lie, do not choose a sad and mournful time;

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 399

do not go in the shade of the evening, or.in the dark
night ; but go in the morning, in the bright sun-
shine, and when the birds are singing.'

"June 1. — He said, ( One symptom after another
assures me that I am approaching my end. I have
been graciously saved from extreme sufferings. It
may be I shall go down to death without them. But
I think nothing of that ; God knows what is best.'
He then added, ' I find an additional sweetness in
the name of Jesus,' and repeated,

'Jesus, the Name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease.'

Again he remarked, ' I have given up nearly every
care to others ; the world goes on, almost without a
thought or care from me.' Hearing it remarked
that the cares of earth would soon cease with us all,
though they now press upon us for a little time, he
replied, ' O yes, I would not exchange ; I have not
viewed it in this light before. O no, I would not ex-
change conditions with any of you — I am now wholly
the Lord's, and he is mine. Glory to God ! Praise
the Lord ! '

" June 3. — To a lady who called to see him he
said, ' Mrs. Caldwell told me to-day that I had been
here twelve weeks ; they have been weeks of great
suffering, yet I believe in all this I can say with
Job, " I have not sinned, nor charged God foolishly." '

"June 4.. — Suffering great oppression, he said, 'I
feel in my extreme debility just like lying down and
sleeping in Jesus ; I shall sleep in Jesus ; he is my
trust.' To the doctor, raising him up in bed, he re-
marked, 'I am very languid.' The doctor replied,
' Yes ; but while your outward man perisheth, your

400 THE XEW LIFE DA WXING.

inward man is renewed day by day.' 'O yes,' said
he, ' when my mind returns from its wanderings and
fixes itself on Christ, there it rests.'

" At another time he remarked to the doctor, ' Faith
is a great thing ; it enables me to stand on the divid-
ing line between the two worlds without trembling.'

" June 6. — As some one was fanning him, he said
to his mother, ' Mother, I have no temptation to mur-
muring or impatience ; on the contrary, I feel, as
the fan is brushing by me, that the heavenly breezes
are passing over me.' His mother responded,
' Glory to God ! T shouted glory to God when you
were converted, but then I rejoiced with trembling ;
now I rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.
And could I but rejoice, when I see my son breath-
ing his life away in the arms of Jesus, and melting
away into the light of heaven ?' He added, ' I lie
down to sleep as deliciously and composedly as an
infant.' Again, speaking of dying, he remarked :
' This is not dying. It is the consummation of life ;
a little while, and it will be life eternal.'

"A short time before he died he had a struggle
with the powers of darkness, but it was of short dura-
tion ; he was soon the victor, and, raising his head,
and in token of triumph waving his right hand, he
shouted, 'Glory to God ! glory to Jesus ! he is my
trust ; he is my strength ; he is my rock ; because
he lives, I shall live also ; glory to Jesus — to Jesus —
Jesus ! ' and with the name which is above every
name upon his lips, he took his upward flight — a glo-
rious end of an honorable and useful life."

And now, in closing, indulge me in a few words
of application.

MEMORIAL DISCOURSE. 401

And, first, let me address the younger part of this
congregation. Let me remind you that the founda-
tion of Professor Caldwell's character was laid in
youth ; that at the early age of seventeen, without
waiting for a general religious excitement, he gave
himself to God. It was then he began that honorable
and useful course which has just been brought to so
glorious an end. Youth, my young friends, is the
true seed-time of life, in which he that sows to the
wind shall reap the whirlwind ; but he who, like Pro-
fessor Caldwell, " sows to the Spirit, shall of the
Spirit reap life everlasting."

To those in the congregation who are parents, I
would recall the fact that Professor Caldwell was
indebted to the instrumentality of his parents, under
God, for his early religious impressions and training,
and that his religious character seemed to have been
cast in the mold of theirs. The uprightness of his
father, and the piety and deep religious knowledge of
his mother, find their appropriate response in the
steadiness of his life, the strength of his faith, and
the triumph of his death. The powerful hold which
his mother had upon his confidence is seen in the
fact that, in the last struggle with the enemy, among
all the friends who surrounded his bed, he instinct-
ively turned to her for sympathy, and besought her
to pray for him. Let it be our care to be such
parents, and it shall be our joy to have such children.

To this whole Church and congregation, in whose
communion and bosom was spent the flower of his
days, and among whom he went out and came in, a
bright and a steady light, let me say that to you he
has left an example of unchangeable devotion to re-

26

402 THE NEW LIFE DA WNINO.

ligion, and of firm attachment to that particular form
of it to which we profess adherence. And since we,
as members of the same Christian congregation, are
permitted to share in the honor of his life and the joy
of his death, let it be our chief concern so to live that
we may be partakers of his reward.

To the bereaved family and relatives let me say,
that to you he has left the heritage of " a good name,
which is as ointment poured forth," and which will
continue to refresh you with its fragrance as long as
you labor to follow in his footsteps. For the rest,
let me remain silent ; for though you mourn not as
others that have no hope, yet " the heart knoweth
its own bitterness."

THIRTY TEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 403

XIX.

THE ASPECT OF CHRISTIANITY FROM THE
END OF A THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE.

Then Peter, rilled with the Holy Ghost, said unto them, Ye rulers
of the people, and elders of Israel, if we this day be examined of the
good deed done to the impotent man, by what means he is made
whole; be it known unto you all, and to all the people of Israel, that
by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom ye crucified, whom
God raised from the dead, even by him doth this man stand here be-
fore you whole. This is the stone which was set at naught of you
builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither is there
salvation in any other : for there is none other name under heaven
given among men, whereby we must be saved. — Acts iv, 8-12.

PENTECOST was just past, and its glory was still
gleaming in the souls of the disciples. Peter and
John had gone up to the temple at the hour of prayer,
and at the Beautiful Gate had found and healed a
certain lame man. The poor man, made almost
frantic with joy and gratitude by his sudden cure,
followed the apostles, leaping and praising God, and
the people crowded about him in wonder and amaze-
ment. To this crowd Peter preached, only stopping
when the authorities arrested and locked him up for
the night.

The preaching seems to have been very successful ;
so much so that the Jewish authorities were alarmed,

404 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

and the next morning, when the prisoners were
brought from their confinement, they were solemnly-
asked the question, " By what power or by what
name have ye done this ? " The pentecostal zeal of the
apostles had not been weakened, or even dimmed, by
confinement, and Peter not only promptly answered
the question, but proclaimed that Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, in whose name the miracle had been
wrought, was the Saviour of the world, the corner-
stone of the Church of God, the only being through
whom men could be saved.

This declaration he adhered to in defiance of threats
and warnings, and the subsequent career of all the
apostles is only a continuous, multiform repetition
and illustration of the same declaration. Paul re-
asserts it when he says, " If we, or an angel from
heaven, preach any other Gospel unto you than that
which we have preached unto you, let him be ac-
cursed ; " and he tells us what that Gospel is in the
most compressed form when he says that " Christ
crucified is the wisdom and the power of God unto
salvation to every one that believeth."

The meaning of the text, the meaning of the whole
Bible, is that the Gospel of Christ is the only power
that can save the world.

We have selected this theme to-day to enable us
to express, in a single discourse, the particular con-
viction which has gathered emphasis and power dur-
ing a ministry of thirty years. I am about to leave
the pastorate and to enter upon a new form of my
divine calling ; and as I look back over my ministry,
over the Church of Christ and the history of the
times for the last three decades, I feel most pro-

THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 405

foundly and solemnly — that men as individuals — that
human society, whether considered as a whole, or as
separated into nations — can only be saved, purified,
and ennobled by Christianity. This is the world's
hope, or else there is no hope ; and, standing, as I do, at
the terminus of a long and laborious pastorate, this, my
deepest and dearest conviction, shall be my farewell.

My theme, then, is, Christianity, the saving and
purifying power of humanity.

First of all, we take it for granted that purity is an
attainment possible to men. One good man is a
proof and an example of what is possible for man as
man. If millions of individuals in the course of the
ages have been brought under the control of holy
motives — have become pure, benevolent, peaceful, and
self-sacrificing — we cannot see why the same achieve-
ment should be impossible, in due time, for the
whole race. Human nature is substantially the
same in all men, and the cases in which evil is sub-
dued and good built up to beauty and glory are a
prophecy for the race. And who shall number the
host of the renewed who have appeared on earth
to adorn the page of history and to draw men toward
holiness ?

If, then, there have been good men, and not a few
of them, and if they are justly to be considered
specimens of what any man may become, our next
remark is, that the renewing and purifying power
must be looked for from the side of religion. As far
forth as a pure character and life can be regarded as
the work of ideas, the ideas. themselves must be the
very highest. And where are such ideas found but in
religion ? In politics, for example, the great idea is

406 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

justice, or right, in its application to earthly relations
— to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. In
art, of whose refining power we hear so much, the one
idea, the one aim, is to gratify the demand for the beau-
tiful. In morality, so far as it may be considered apart
from religion, the ideas are indeed most important :
man must be just to his fellow-men ; he must form
his own character by the rules of chastity, truth, and
honesty ; but why must he ? Religion must furnish
the answer, or we shall have none but a shallow one.
Indeed, morality without religion is a mere collection
of dead rules drawn from the fitness of things. Its
ideas are cold and bloodless ; and virtue, under such a
system, would have neither root nor obligation — no
relationship to vastness or grandeur.

Religion, on the contrary, is at home amid the
noblest of all ideas. Indeed, these ideas are part and
parcel of herself. What are they? Why, chiefly,
God, a future life, and the service which the creature
owes to God. In the idea of God we have the infinite
in power, wisdom, holiness ; in the future life we
have the ideas of reward and punishment, that is,
happiness or misery in another world ; and in the
service owing from the creature to God we have
worship in its various forms, and obedience to the
divine will. Now, here are the highest, most fearful,
most sublime, and hence, too, the most powerful,
ideas of which it is possible to conceive. ■ If goodness
is to be called into existence in the fallen soul by the
touch of an idea, then here is the idea, with the neces-
sary creative power. The infinite breadth and height
and depth of the idea of God, linked with that of a
future life of misery or happiness, must give infinite

THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 407

weight to duty. These are the conceptions which
are native in the sphere of religion, and which, if
ideas can, will stir the torpid soul of sin to its depths.

Nay, further, with these great conceptions of religion
once in possession we can raise to dignity the other
chief spheres of life. Morality only comes to have a
meaning when religion touches it. Rooted in relig-
ious ideas, it becomes divine. So of art : the beau-
tiful is its aim, but it is religion that keeps it from
debasement, that puts the polish of purity upon the
soul of genius, and wins it for the uses of moral im-
provement. The same is true of politics. But for
the divine motives that come to it from religion in
the souls of the better people, the only politics pos-
sible would be a stringent tyranny.

Yes, it is plain that if our race is to be purified the
power to accomplish it must come from the side of
religion. The ideas of God, of worship, of obedience
to a divine law, and of the future life, must have a
large share in the renovation. This is the verdict of
the whole world. The father of the latest system
of philosophy falsely so-called, Comte, who denies
the existence of God and the immortality of the soul,
thought at first that he had no need of religion ; but
toward the close of his life, even in that barren waste
of a soul without a God and expecting to die like a
brute, religion, after a fashion, vindicated itself, and
the atheist constructed a catechism, with sages and
warriors in the place of God. He felt his system of
philosophy was not complete without a religion. It
lacked, in the absence of that, the highest element.

But where, brethren, shall we look for the needed
religion from which is to come the longed-for purifi-

408 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

cation ? The answer is plain : There is only one re-
ligion that survives the light of modern science, and
it is the religion of the founders and promoters of
that science. For these thirty years of pastoral labor
and thought, as I have looked at the wickedness of
our great cities ; as I have heard the roar of drunk-
enness and profanity in our streets ; as I have seen
the worst classes of men and women massing them-
selves up before the moving chariots of our Christian
civilization, I have turned ever, and hopefully, and
only, to the Christian Scriptures — to the heavenly
forces of Christianity — and in that direction I turn
now.

We must not, however, forget that Christianity is
not the same thing in all hands. When we say our
hope for man is in Christianity, we mean neither the
disguised Christianity of superstition, nor the naked
and dismembered Christianity of modern unbelief.
Romanism covers Christianity with loads of tawdry
rubbish, and then calls on it to move and save the
world. A movement follows, not indeed of Chris-
tianity, but of the superincumbent mountain of rags.
Romanism works most precisely with those parts of
her system that do not belong to Christianity ; she
lays God the Father and our Saviour mostly aside,
and devotes herself to the excrescences of saint-wor-
ship and wafer and wine worship ; she covers up
baptism under grease and salt, and directs attention
away from the atonement by pointing to the cross of
wood, to relics of saints, and by the pantomime of
the sign of the cross. She has also Protestant imi-
tators in these extra-scriptural performances, who
show that they have no confidence in the power of

THIRTY TEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 409

simple Christianity, but only in the dress in which
their ingenuity can trick it out.

Romanism, on the one hand, whether genuine or
counterfeit, errs by excess ; it relies on finery and
tradition for what the truth alone can accomplish.
On the other hand, the several forms of Rationalism
claiming to be Christian err by defect. Unitarian-
ism and Universalism are only different sides of the
same system. The same theory of interpretation
will draw either of them out of the Scriptures, and
with equal facility. If the New Testament, especially
the first chapter of John's Gospel, does not teach
distinctly the Godhead of Jesus, there is no way of
knowing what it does teach ; and if Jesus and the
apostles do not teach the eternity of future punish-
ment, we do not see how they can possibly escape
the charge of purposely misleading plain people, not
only by particular passages, but by the general drift
of their teachings. The misfortune of liberal Chris-
tianity, as it sees fit to call itself, is that, accord-
ing to the idea of Rationalism, it goes into the
Scriptures with a theory which it concludes to be
rational, and there cuts and slashes fore and aft until
every thing is put into a shape to be measured by its
tape.

Instead of drawing out of the book itself a theory
which will harmonize with the whole tenor of it, and
allowing it to say what it will, these " Liberals " hold
their theory firm and stark, and bend and torture the
record until it submits and gives the answer they
want. Books, like men, rarely utter the truth under
torture. " The word of God is not bound ; " and if
the human intellect, in its pride of boasted liberty,

4 1 0 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINQ .

attempts to bind it, the clanger is it will carry away
the falsehood it wanted.

No, neither Romanism nor Rationalism is Chris-
tianity. Both of them mangle and distort it until
they make it quite another thing than we find in the
New Testament. Romanism changes and betrays,
overlays and neutralizes it by innumerable forged
codicils, which claim equal right with the original
Testament while contradicting it ; Rationalism boldly
takes out of the Testament the offensive parts. The
two together exhaust the apocalyptic anathema : " If
any man shall take away from the words of the
book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part
out of the book of life ; " and " if any man shall add
unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues
that are written in this book."

Neither of these perversions of Christianity has
power to transform human nature. Romanism re-
tains her power with the ignorant masses born in her
pale while they remain ignorant, but makes them not
one whit less besotted for all her control. In con-
verting men from sin she does nothing. Rationalism,
as represented among us by Unitarianism, has no
missionary zeal, and preaches the Gospel only to rob
men of their faith. In the hands of Rome the Gos-
pel is now a toy, a picture, a theatrical show, and now
a bugbear of priestly terrors. In the hands of Uni-
tarianism it is a small philosophy, with nothing about
it that need trouble an enlightened conscience.

Christianity smothered under the trappings of the
Middle Ages cannot recall the human race from
spiritual death ; no more can the dainty eclecticism
of Unitarianism.

THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 41 I

No ; in the last thirty years I have seen thousands
of people reformed and made new creatures, filled
with the inspiration of a heavenly zeal, but not by
masses and holy water — not by an eviscerated Gospel
— but only by the earnest preaching of evangelical
Protestantism. Yes, the doctrines of Jesus, as de-
veloped by Paul and his fellow-apostles — the doc-
trine, for example, of the moral ruin of the race by
sin, by which " all are children of wrath ;" the atone-
ment by the death of the spotless and divine Christ ;
the preaching of repentance in his name ; the cer-
tainty of eternal death to the impenitent, and eternal
glory to the penitent ; the great truth of justification
by faith alone ; the work of the Holy Spirit in the
soul as enlightener and sanctifier and witness ; the
glorious truth of the new birth and a holy life — these
are clearly the essence of the New Testament record,
the very voices of Jesus and his apostles, almost lost
sight of for many ages in the wilderness of forms and
ceremonies, and amid the mummeries of popes and
monks, but restored at the Reformation, never, never,
we trust, to be eclipsed again.

So far as we have seen or known, these are the
truths with which Christianity has ever won its real
triumphs. These are the words of simple, but mighty,
power, before which the sinful heart has quailed and
melted, and the sinful life has been exchanged for one
of glorious purity. The Gospel, thus understood in
its most obvious sense, meets practically all the great
problems of the human life — of the struggling, sin-
sick soul.

It meets, for example, that terrible sense of sin
which is universal, which fills the whole earth with

412 THE NEW LIFE DA WNING.

groans, which no soft words of philosophy, nor any
cunning changes of name, can silence. The crimes
of history, the shameful scenes of the police courts,
the difficulty of virtue in the best, and the universal
sense of guilt, can only be met by a religion which
teaches original sin — an inward moral blight which
has cursed the race. The contradiction felt by the
soul between itself and the divine law can only be
met by an atonement, a satisfaction to divine justice,
and the demand for this can only be satisfied by a
personage who, like the God-man of the Gospel, com-
bines the glory of the Deity with the possibility of
suffering. When we go to the fallen race with a
Gospel the message we take them will be no Gospel,
no good tidings, unless it proclaim the doctrines of
regeneration. Nothing else will do ; through sin
the break-down is complete ; the reconstruction must
be so complete as to be a renewal in the image of
God, a new birth from incorruptible seed, bringing
in the power to keep the commandments of God.
When we go to the slaves of sin, with their consciences
seared, counting it a glory to riot in the day-time,
we can only reach them with a preaching that opens
upon them the Sinaitic artillery, and scatters among
them the bolts of divine wrath ; they must hear of
the lake of fire ; their clutch of sin must be burned
loose. And when we descant on the graces of relig-
ion, on the beauty and sweetness of a holy life,
we shall be as those who mock unless we can pro-
claim a Comforter, an indwelling God, a present
spirit of Christ, who works in us the good pleasure
of his will, and makes the renewed temple of the
heart his own dwelling-place, and unless we can tell

THIRTY YEARS" PASTORATE REVIEWED. 413

of an eternity of purity and bliss at the end of the
earthly race.

These are the keys with which orthodoxy, fired by
the evangelical spirit, opens, practically, the myster-
ies of human life ; the ordnance with which she bat-
ters down the strongholds of Satan ; the music and
the feasts with which she soothes and satisfies and
strengthens the souls that yield themselves to God.
This is indeed the Gospel — the Gospel of the apos-
tolic and of the modern evangelical Church, which,
however woven into human creeds, and allying itself
with present or future forms of literature, art, and
worship, has before it the task of converting the
world. This is the Gospel, which is free in develop-
ment, but unchangeable in substance ; which will
work mightily, whether in the log school-house, in
the gorgeous temple, or in the streets and fields ;
which will pour its purifying power upon humanity
through one ecclesiastical organization, or through a
friendly cordon of distinct denominations.

My growing belief in the power of Christianity as
held by evangelical Protestants has ever joined itself
closely to the Church. Christ's name is the only
name of power ; it holds in its mystical letters all the
truths of the evangelical creed ; but it, and the creed
that grows out of it, mast live in the consciousness
of the Church ; the truth must put on the Church as
a garment in which to make itself visible, must use
the Church as armor, as enginery. Now, as I stand
here at the end of thirty years and look back, I feel
a profound regret for the quarrels of evangelical
Churches. I feel a pang of remorse for momentary
indulgences of sectarian feeling in my own experience.

4 1 4 THE NE W LIFE DA WNINO.

But I nevertheless feel that there is a true and pro-
found union among the evangelical Churches, of
which close-communion in one denomination, and
the dogma of apostolical succession in another, are
only very slight interruptions. The Stubbses are
well offset by the Tyngs. And close-communion is
only the result of a difference of opinion about the
mode of an ordinance, which does not in the least
obstruct hearty co-operation in most of our Christian
enterprises. Evangelical Churches are one in all
the essential principles of a common faith ; they can
join, all round the world, in repeating from the heart
the Apostles' Creed. They are one in laying the
highest stress on the same truths in preaching ; one
in hostility to the errors of Rome and of Rationalism ;
and this real oneness of the Churches is coming more
and more to distinct consciousness. This is the
meaning of the Evangelical Alliance in England and
elsewhere, and of the Church Diets in Germany, where
the evangelical Churches recognize each other's Chris-
tianity by common expressions of their faith and
common plans for the weal of mankind.

This real union of the evangelical Churches, result-
ing from their outgrowth from the eternal Root of
Gospel truth ; from their feeling within them the
juices of a common life ; from the love that binds them,
one and all, to their Lord is destined to advance, and
to become an instrument of great power for good.
We cannot tell what effect the ages may have on
ecclesiastical forms, either in changing the old, or in
forming new ones. We do not know whether the
complete unity of the Church will come by uniting
all sects in one compact organization, or whether it

THIRTY TEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 415

will take place rather in a spiritual sense, toning
down the spirit of party, eradicating rivalry, and, by a
spirit of love, broad and deep, fusing them into one
for all the purposes of communion, and retaining their
several organizations for the sake of efficiency. But
that a working unity will come the signs foretell, the
world demands, and I do not doubt. And when it
is fully come, there is nothing to which it will not be
adequate.

Just think what evangelical Christians could ac-
complish in our own country if they were all more
perfectly united by the love of God and of one an-
other than they are now as sects. The results would
be something like the following : Prompted by a
Christ-like piety, whose undivided tide would move
with the strength of an ocean and the gentleness of
a zephyr, the Church would follow the example of the
Master in looking up the worst classes of the com-
munity. Instead of leaving such work to uncertain
philanthropy, she herself would establish missionary
institutions for magdalens, and similar establish-
ments for hopeless inebriates — missionary reformato-
ries for the worst classes of every description. She
would recognize in even the most degraded of these the
brothers and sisters of the publicans and sinners to
whom Jesus gave special personal attention when on
earth. These would be gathered up, if possible, as
fast as they fell, and the effort would be by the Gos-
pel and its divine charity, by bread of earth and of
heaven, to bring them to Christ and to health. The
abuses of the press would be corrected. A public
opinion would be created before which bad books and
newspapers and other periodicals would disappear.

4 1 6 THE NE W LIFE DA WNING.

Such a paper as the " Police Gazette," and portions of
many others, like moles, dazzled blind by the pure
light, would burrow out of sight. Impure amuse-
ments would share the same fate. Extravagance in
dress would become disreputable, and the money now
spent in jewelry and the mere changes of fashion
would feed the poor and reform the wretched.

Such would be the force of virtue going forth from
the whole evangelical Church of the nation, so united,
that the Government would be permeated by it. It
would breathe an inspiration of purity into the public
life. It would demand the good and wise for office,
and our laws and their administration, in such a light,
would blush at impurity, at injustice, or at profanity.
Our city governments, no longer controlled by mere
party interests, would make virtue their central idea,
and the officers, from the highest to the lowest, would
feel and show the power of the ruling idea.

Nay, if the whole evangelical Church were carried
up into this sublime unity, merging her differences
in love and in the practical aim of saving the world,
she would, with her whole heart, address herself to
the roots of social order, as they are presented in the
life of childhood. The family, the very root of so-
ciety, would become the theme of profoundest sancti-
fied study, and the object of devout and sleepless
care. As now it is in the family that vices first root
themselves, and, unconsciously watered and warmed
by over indulgent affection, grow into strength be-
fore we know it, so then the intensified force of the
divine life in the Church would make pure religion
the ruling sentiment of the fireside. The children,
instead of growing up the playthings of vanity, with

THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 417

pampered appetites, regarding wealth and social po-
sition as the greatest things, would estimate trifles at
their true value, and feel in the divine atmosphere
about them the dignity of goodness.

This divine idea would naturally enter and rule
the schools ; and a perfect unity of Christians would
know how to secure a system of Christian instruction
which would be seen to be quite as essential, even to
common school education, as arithmetic or grammar.
To this the Church, inspired by love and truth, would
add organized care for vagrants and destitute persons
generally, gathering them like lost treasure, and labor-
ing to restore them to purity and happiness. This
is in the very genius of Christianity.

Now, brethren, suppose such a united evangelical
Church, penetrating all the forms of public and pri-
vate life with its whole energy of accumulated love —
suppose such a Church to be the heritage, not of our
country only, but of every country of Christendom —
and who can measure or limit its power ? How
would international law drink in not only justice, but
divine charity ! How would the weak tribes become
the wards of the powerful States, to be taught and
elevated ! In a word, how soon and how rapidly
would the world be on the way toward the fulfillment
of that poetry of Scripture in which " the wolf also shah
dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down
with the kid ; and the calf and the young lion and
the fatling together; and a little child shall lead
them ! " The union of the human race has been the
dream of heroes and dynasties, but they knew no
principle of unification but physical force. Heathen
Rome united the nations by conquest, stringing them

27

4 1 8 THE NE W- LIFE I) A WNING.

on her great sword. Papal Rome attempted the same
thing in the spiritual sphere, but her eeclesiastical
bond was forged out of the broken sword of her hea-
then ancestor. Catholicity is right, but its principle
is not force ; it must be begotten of love, and free-
born.

But is not such a union Utopian ? Is it possible
that all true Christians should heartily unite around
the only saving name, with loving appreciation of its
divine meaning ? We answer, It is not only possible,
but certain. It is pledged in the prayer of Jesus,
" that his people may be one as he and his Father
are one.'' It is prophesied and promised in a hun-
dred sacred texts, and it is rapidly advancing toward
realization this moment while we speak. Think for
a moment of the time, scarce a century ago, when
even Protestants had not learned the lesson of free-
dom of conscience, and when to have a creed involved
the condemnation of every man who rejected a single
minute point of it. Recall the still more recent time
when, liberty of conscience reluctantly conceded, the
principal activity of the evangelical Churches was
found in the department of heated polemics.

And behold what an advance ! Evangelical alli-
ances, Church diets, union prayer-meetings, general
Sunday-school conventions, general Christian com-
missions, a common creed distinctly recognized by
all evangelical Churches as containing all essential
truth, and for which martyrs could be found in all com-
munions ; and, as the crown of all, behold the dawn-
ing of a loving co-operation, before which exclusive-
ness colors with shame, prejudice perishes, and the
various denominational organizations, consecrating

THIRTY TEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 419

themselves to the general good, build themselves up
only as a part of the kingdom of Christ. He who
does not see among evangelical Christians a broad-
ening charity, an easier movement at the points of
interdenominational contact, a sort of quiet emptying
of the streams into the ocean, seems to us to need a
touch of the divine " eye-salve,"

But, if this divine unity comes, is it competent to
the work of the world's renewal ? Are the ideas of
the Gospel, of the fall, of the God-man, the atone-
ment, repentance, regeneration, hell and heaven — are
these, as a divine revelation, scattered, breathed out
of the heart of an agreeing, laboring Church — are
these sufficient ? Why, is not this unity of the Church
involved in Christ's law of universal brotherhood ?
Nay, is it not included ■ in Christ's spirit, in his ex-
ample of sacrifice ? Is not love, which is the very
life-breath of Christianity, an element of moral om-
nipotence ? Is not heaven itself only the perfect
bloom of the love which shall unite the purified
Church ? Does not the good Samaritan, binding up
the wounds of his enemy, represent the work of the
Church ? And when the whole of the living Churches
of Christ shall be baptized into the good Samaritan's
spirit their united strength shall lift the world out of
its sinful sockets and establish it in righteousness ;
clouds of reproach shall spring from their frown, and
their smile shall become the common light of daily
life.

Every good man, in the light of the Gospel, with
our view, becomes a type of the race — every union
of Christian hearts a symbol of the conquering power
of love at the last. If God shall overthrow many by

420 THE NEW LIFE DAWNING.

one, he shall subdue the world by the united all.
We may say this is far off ; that there are many ob-
stacles to surmount ; mountains are to be leveled and
seas to be bridged, as it were. What of that ? The
mills that are to grind out these results are not
pressed for time ; they do not wear out, but only pol-
ish and improve, by friction. A few days of a thou-
sand years each, of which we shall watch the dawn
and flight from the hills of glory, will finish the work.
In heaven there is no growing old— we can afford to
wait ; here we can wait for heaven.

With this view of the Gospel and the Church, in-
spiring, as it does, pity for Christ's enemies and con-
tempt for their hatred, I can retire from the pastorate
with cheerfulness. The office of pastor has, indeed,
penetrated my being with its sanctities. It is hard,
but sweet, to preach ; it is painful to bury the saints,
and yet it is sweet to have heard the language of
triumph from their dying lips ; it is toilsome and ex-
hausting to have upon one the care of souls, and yet
that chastened care adds keen zest to social enjoy-
ment among the flock. It is sad, after a pastorate
of thirty years, to feel that you are within a few hours
of never again having a people ; but I shall seek to
remunerate myself by retiring into the chambers of
memory and arranging the past, as Paul did his cloud
of witnesses. I shall compensate myself by numbers
for the ethereal and shadowy character of my new and
yet old flock. It shall consist of all the congregations
of which 1 have been pastor. I shall preach to them
and visit them often, but shall much oftener have
them preach for me. Their eyes shall melt me, and
their lives and loves shall comfort me. You, my dear

THIRTY YEARS' PASTORATE REVIEWED. 421

brethren, are my last flock ; you will occupy a place
very near to my heart ; and when, in my new sphere
of labor, I shall turn aside occasionally and review
the past, I will see you in imagination as I have so
often seen you in this church, and by your invisible
presence my spirits shall be cheered and my soul
elevated into holier communion. May we so live on
earth that we shall greet each other again, when the
storms of life are past, in the Church of the First-
born— the New Jerusalem — Heaven !

THE END.

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